Brand New World
by Smeghead
Summary: As the world comes to terms with the supernatural, the US government gets involved in the vampire-slaying business.
1. Prologue

**_Brand New World - Prologue_**

**_Author: Robert Cox (smeghead_76@dodo.com.au)_**

**_Rating: M-15+ (Australian system) for violence, language and other fun stuff_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own diddly. That's literally, as well as in the sense of this story, so it'd be an exercise in futility to sue._**

**_Summary: As the world comes to terms with the supernatural, the US government gets involved in the vampire-slaying business._**

**_Pairings: Oz/Willow, Buffy/Xander... for real, this time!_**

**_Feedback: It's encouragement for my muse to stick around, instead of buggering off to a RWC match._**

**_AN: This has taken longer than I expected to come out, as Final Fantasy X + (recently) Rugby World Cup = not a lot of writing time..._**

**_AN2: The 'song' mentioned is actually real. Seriously - do you think I could make up anything like that?_**

**_AN3: Once again, many thanks to Danyel, for taking valuable 'Matryoshka' writing-time to beta this (hint! :)_**

********

**_Downtown Los Angeles_**

The trio of vampires watched from the alley they were lurking in as the small group approached. They could smell the alcohol from where they were and that, combined with the slight unsteadiness to the humans' walk, seemed to indicate that they were drunk. Almost as one, the vampires grimaced; the blood of drunk people tasted a little off but, then again, it still tasted better than the blood of drug-users.

For a species that tended to view its fellows as competition for the same source of prey, it was unusual to see vampires hunting in groups. But of late, the City of Angels had started becoming more dangerous for their kind. They were still unsure as to precisely _what_ was happening... just that it wasn't good.

The group of humans - all young men who were apparently having a night on the town - were now approaching the entrance to the alley, and as they passed, three pairs of arms blurred out and grabbed them, each vampire grabbing two and hauling them into the alley.

The humans sobered up rapidly, but all three of the vampires had seen similar reactions from other intoxicated humans they'd taken before. One of the vampires, however, frowned as warning bells started going off in his mind. Sure, the humans' clothes smelled - positively _reeked_ - of alcohol, but there wasn't the same amount on their breath. And one of them was wearing glasses, but there was something odd about them...

There wasn't time for the suspicions to fully form, however, as in that moment, the humans exploded into action, launching blows at the vampires that caught them completely off-guard and sent them reeling, dazed.

Taking advantage of the vampires' confusion, the humans then drew weapons - two sub-machine guns and four pistols - with a speed that practically screamed 'highly-trained soldiers', except that the vampires were in no real condition to notice.

_Well, now I know why LA has started becoming dangerous for us_, one of the vampires thought somewhat dazedly, a condition resulting from having his head bounced off a concrete wall.

Muzzle flashes lit up the alley.

********

Petty Officer Allan Deniston surveyed the scene with satisfaction. This had been the third group of vampires his SEAL patrol had encountered - and eliminated - that night, for a total of ten vampires. He frowned slightly - the information that they'd been given before their patrol started had indicated that vampires were solitary hunters, but in the week since their patrol cycle started, they'd mainly encountered pairs, trios, and the occasional group of four, with single vampires being in a decided minority.

He shrugged. Tonight was the last night of the patrol cycle, and it was something he could bring up during the debriefing. The ammunition they'd been issued seemed to work pretty well, he noted. Blessed tracer rounds, and subsonic, to boot. If the vampires didn't burn, then they'd be crippled by the blessings imparted on each round... particularly when they were shot in the kneecaps, making them easy prey for the more traditional vampire-hunting weapons such as wooden stakes.

The fact that the rounds were subsonic made the suppressors built into their pistols and sub-machine guns effective as well. _We don't want to disturb the upstanding citizens of LA_, he thought with a slightly twisted grin.

"Hey, Allan," Roy Webber, the patrol's second-in-command said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yeah, Roy?"

"Wasn't there something in our patrol orders that said that vampires were to be taken prisoner, if possible?" Roy asked, his tone of voice indicating that he didn't particularly care one way or the other. "I think the word 'interrogation' was mentioned somewhere."

"I made a command judgement that it wasn't possible," Allan said with a grin.

"Fair enough."

********

**_Patrol debriefing area, Operation STOKER  
Mirimar NAS_**

"... the infra-red monocle built into a pair of glasses was effective, as was the ammunition," Allan said, wrapping up his debriefing to an audience which included the one-star who had operational command of Operation STOKER, the Lieutenant-Commander who was his immediate superior... and a group of civilians. _Teenage_ civilians, actually.

Normally, Allan would be peeved by the fact that there were civilians sitting in on a debriefing, but he'd been thoroughly briefed when he'd volunteered for this op, and knew that they'd _earned_ their position as experts the hardest way possible - with the blood of friends and family.

"Excellent, Petty Officer," the general said. "If you have no comments or questions, then this debriefing is over."

"Actually, sir, there _are_ a couple of points I'd like to raise."

"Go on."

"Well, sir, the first point concerns the monocles. Although the R-and-D guys did a good job of disguising them, up close they look suspicious. Can I assume that that is being worked on?"

"You may, Petty Officer," the Lieutenant-Commander said. "The second point?"

"It involves the fact that, on our patrols, we were running into groups of vampires, rather than the loners we were briefed to expect. And, from what I've heard, it's something that has been happening across the city. No offence," he added to the civilians.

"None taken," the young man who his briefing had identified to Allan as Alexander Harris replied. "In fact, it's something that's come as a surprise to us, too."

"We think it might be an effect of the military patrols," the young redhead - Willow Rosenberg - added. "Reports from other cities are saying pretty much the same thing."

"After all, over the last couple of weeks, they _have_ been vanishing in ever-increasing numbers," the blonde - Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer - pointed out. "Vampires may be stupid, but they _do_ have a highly-developed sense of paranoia. Maybe they've started to work out what's been happening to them."

"The implications of that, if true, are somewhat disturbing," the one-star said. "Not the least because that means the they might start organising themselves, which would make hunting them somewhat more problematic." A series of nods around the room indicated that everyone else present was also thinking along those lines.

What was carefully _not_ being said, however, was the worst-case scenario resulting from taking that thought through to its logical conclusion. That there would be a group of vampires - possibly acting in concert with demons of one form or another - large enough to overwhelm the garrison of the Sunnydale Exclusion Zone, and hold the Hellmouth for long enough to conduct whatever ritual required to open it.

In fact, several plans for _just_ that eventuality had been drawn up - which was a sign of how seriously the US government was taking this. After all, no-one wanted the Hellmouth to open. Bad things would happen then. Each contingency plan had increasing levels of response, with the top-level responses being extremely drastic, which came as no surprise to the handful of people who possessed the necessary security clearances to even _know_ of their existence, let alone to actually read them; they were designed with extremely drastic situations in mind.

"If there is nothing else you'd like to add, Petty Officer..." the one-star prompted.

"No, sir," Allan replied.

"In that case, this debriefing is over and with it, so is your patrol cycle," the one-star said, and then added with a small smile. "I believe you and your men have earned the right to indulge in a few cold beers."

"Thank you, sir."

********

**_Office of the Special Advisor to the President (Supernatural Affairs)  
Old Executive Office Building, Washington D.C._**

Rupert Giles pushed his glasses up on his forehead to allow him to pinch the bridge of his nose. It was at times like this that he missed the teenagers he'd left behind on the West Coast to take up his new position.

Granted, at times they could be most aggravating, but at least they tended to _get things done_, without much in the way of paperwork, which was mainly limited to the Watcher Journals that _he_ was responsible for maintaining. As Buffy had once put it, "I kill the bad guys, and you write it down. _That's_ what I call division of labour."

Now, he had to deal with reports from all directions - not to mention having to write reports of his own. At least, he had access to far more competent typists than himself for that particular task. And the services of a personal assistant to maintain his schedule - a fairly attractive young woman, and it was no effort _at all_ to imagine Xander's likely reaction when he found out about _that_; strangely, it was a prospect which did not concern him unduly - and what he privately termed a 'batman' to help him with any military jargon he didn't understand... which was most of it, to be honest.

Currently, it appeared that translation services would be required, as he was perusing the various contingency plans for the opening of the Hellmouth, all lumped together under the arcane - to him, anyway - legend of 'TOP SECRET (CODE WORD ACCESS) - ARMAGEDDON', along with dire warnings for anyone who read it without the appropriate security clearance. The overall name seemed somewhat dramatic, but it was at least descriptive.

Idly noting that this was the latest version of what had already been nicknamed the 'Doomsday Book' - not to be confused with the targeting sheets for the Strategic Integrated Operations Plan, the directions for fighting a thermonuclear conflict; nicknamed the 'Doomsday _Folder_' - he broke the seal and skipped past the table of contents, electing to jump straight into the heart of the matter.

And immediately found himself _way_ out of his depth, which was hardly surprising when the subject matter involved content along the lines of...

'Case ARC LIGHT  
'Upon receiving confirmation of a major supernatural event in the Sunnydale Exclusion Zone (SEZ), Strategic Command (STRATCOM) will activate the following assets... (a long list of what Giles presumed were bomber squadrons)... and commence operations under the direction of-'

'Case LAND HAMMER  
'Upon receiving confirmation of a major supernatural event in the Sunnydale Exclusion Zone (SEZ), Strategic Command (STRATCOM), acting in concert with Air Combat Command (ACC) will activate the following assets... (an even longer list)... and commence operations under the direction of-'

Feeling the need for a short break from the deluge of acronyms and jargon, he made himself a cup of tea. Sipping on the brew, he flipped to the last scenario in the folder. In a case of unfortunate timing, he was in the middle of taking a sip as he skimmed the contents of 'Case PROMETHEUS'.

What he read made him spray his tea halfway across his office in a classic spit-take.

"What the hell? Missile squadrons... new target co-ordinates for Peacekeeper ICBM... W-85 MIRV, with a nominal yield of five hundred (500) kilotons... initial commitment of two missiles," he muttered, a suspicion forming. Surely, the government couldn't mean to...

Wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, he buzzed his PA and asked for Warrant Officer Kevin Wilkinson to be sent in.

"You called for me, Mister Giles?" WO Wilkinson asked as he stuck his head around the door a few seconds later.

"Indeed, Kevin," Giles responded. "I require your help in deciphering some documents - and I used to think that some of the languages I had to deal with as a Field Watcher were arcane. It amazes me as to some of the things that it is possible to do to a language."

Wilkinson smiled at that remark. It was rapidly becoming something of a running joke among those who had to deal with the Englishman. Give him a fragmentary document that was written in a dead language, they said, and he'd have it sorted out with a minimum of fuss, since that was what he was _used to_. Give him something written in US government language, however, and they'd start placing bets on how long it would take to ask someone for help.

"I think I may be able to help in that regard, Mister Giles."

Giles handed him the folder, and he took the seat on the other side of Giles' desk while he skim-read them. He made no remark as to the classification level of the documents, as he was fully cleared to view them. Frankly, it was necessary, given the way that Giles struggled with the average government report.

It didn't take too long to read the documents in question, and Wilkinson closed the folder and replaced it on Giles' desk, taking a moment to frame his reply. The contents of the last plan, in particular, had shaken him somewhat.

"The first two are fairly straightforward," he said. "If the Hellmouth opens, the Air Force will commence around-the-clock bombing operations in support of ground troops. Arc Light - which, incidentally, is the code for heavy bomber strikes - involves the use of B-52s, B-1s and B-2s.

"Land Hammer adds to that other varieties of ground-attack craft - in essence, anything with wings that can carry bombs.

"Prometheus, however, goes much further than that." Wilkinson paused and sent a level gaze Giles' way. "In short, nuclear weapons will be used on targets within the continental United States."

"That's what I was afraid it meant."

********

**_Cheap motel, Los Angeles_**

The man lay on the bed, considering his options. Ever since the tragedy of two months ago, he'd been a recluse, spending the time to ponder what he considered to be his personal failings, not the least of which was his cowardice.

While everyone else had stepped forward to face something from their nightmares, _he_ had taken several backwards; in fact, he'd broken and run.

And like everyone else, he was paying for it, although in a different way.

Instead of having to mourn for friends and family, he was being plagued by his conscience. Right on cue, the nagging started again.

_You ran._

_What else could I do? If I'd stayed, I probably would have died as well_, he protested silently.

_Don't try to rationalise your actions. You_ ran, _like the coward that you really are_.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce sighed and conceded the point. It was true, he decided. He _had_ been a coward on that terrible day in Sunnydale, when as soon as the Ascension began, he'd jumped into his car and driven away as fast as it would carry him. He'd survived, but he hadn't counted on the price his actions would extract from him.

As it turned out, he'd been _right_ to escape, but the fact that he hadn't made the slightest effort to stop the tragedy gnawed at him. A group of _children_ had shown more courage than him, for God's sake! And although they had been justly rewarded for their courage, the price they had paid was infinitely steeper than the castigating his conscience had been subjecting him to ever since that day.

Although, he had to admit, he _had_ been grossly unprepared for the situation when he'd first arrived in Sunnydale, and the circumstances of his arrival hadn't helped, either. Replacing a well-respected man - for doing something that he wouldn't have hesitated in doing himself - was never easy, and he hadn't helped matters by trying to assert his authority straight away. Then again, he _had_ been 'so green he needed mowing' - to coin a phrase - and hadn't thought through the likely consequences of his actions.

His job had been made even more difficult when Rupert Giles had elected to remain in Sunnydale, although Wesley was certain that the ex-Watcher hadn't _meant_ to cause difficulties. In fact, Giles had tried to help him by offering advice and suggestions on how to deal with the headstrong young Slayer in his care and the group of friends who'd elected to help her in her duties.

It was just that Buffy had been unable to avoid comparisons between the two of them and Wesley had been found wanting in many areas. If someone offered him the chance to re-live the last six months or so, knowing what he knew now, he'd leap at the chance.

Shaking his head at the futility of such thoughts, he turned his attention to his meagre belongings. At least he'd had the foresight to draw as much cash as possible from the credit card he'd been issued, as not long after the Graduation Massacre, the account had been frozen. In a fit of paranoia - and thinking the worst - he'd started to check in to a series of cheap motels, never staying at any one for more than a week or so. The motel he was currently staying at was merely the latest in a series, and he hadn't bothered to pay any attention to the name. Why should he? He'd probably be moving out before too long.

His gaze fell on the laptop computer he'd been issued to submit his reports and Journal entries on. The Council had accepted that technology _was_ useful in some respects, and had gone to some pains to construct a system to allow for private, encrypted communications between themselves and their field agents.

It had gone unused these two months gone, but Wesley was tired of running. Tired of hiding. Plugging the computer into the data-jack in the wall - cheap the motel may be, but they saw the revenue potential of providing Internet connections to their customers - and connected to the Council's Virtual Private Network. After typing in the username and password he'd carefully memorised, he checked to see if there were any messages for him.

There was one, but it was to all Watchers, rather than for him specifically. Opening it, he read it...

...and sat bolt upright in shock. The Council of Watchers was no more, and had been for over a month, disassembled by the British government, acting in concert with the American government. His head spinning from the implications, he read the message again, more carefully.

It was an offer. Any Watcher who felt that they could not continue would be allowed to retire quietly and be given a generous pension. However, they were being encouraged to lend their assistance and expertise to the new government department that was being set up in order to co-ordinate the resources the American government, along with those of allied nations - the British and Australian governments were the only ones to sign up and commit assistance, Wesley noticed - had committed to the fight against the darkness.

He noted the fact that the message was written by Rupert Giles, and included methods for getting into contact to offer his services. In a flash of insight, he realised that this was a chance to redeem his failures on that terrible day. Picking up the motel phone, he dialled the number at the end of the message.

"Can I speak to Rupert Giles, please? My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce..."

********

**_Elsewhere_**

The 'room' was infinite in size, which could probably be attributed to the fact that it didn't really exist in the set of dimensions that their inhabitants, in their ignorance, called 'the real world'. Currently, there were two figures present, wearing the forms of a male and a female.

These forms approached physical perfection, which was easy to understand, given that the beings could choose whatever form they desired, although physical bodies were not required.

"This turn of events is most unfortunate," the male was saying.

"Indeed," his 'sister' agreed. "Our plans are in disarray; the souled vampire is no more, his destiny unfulfilled. The one who would become his Seer has also perished before her time. We stand on the brink of disaster."

"Perhaps not," the male countered. "The humans have been forcibly introduced to aspects of their world that they have previously ignored, and are accepting responsibility for defending themselves from the darkness."

"It remains to be seen how effective the measures they are putting into place will be. After all, this situation is the direct result of one human's failings."

The male immediately understood what his 'sister' was referring to. Human free will had been something that had been both a blessing and a curse over the millennia, and the reason why this particular dimension and its derivatives required so much of their attention.

"What do you propose we do, then?"

"Nothing. Our hands are tied in this case; we can only offer guidance, not involve ourselves directly in events except under very specific circumstances - which have not eventuated."

"Understood."

********

**_Caritas, Los Angeles_**

Allen Francis Doyle stared moodily into his glass before tipping it to his mouth and taking a sip of the fine Irish whisky. His life had gotten steadily worse over the past couple of months... not that life for a half-Brachen who received visions - and the skull-splitting, brain-melting headaches that went with them - on a semi-regular basis from the Powers That Be was much fun to start with.

In fact, it had reached the point where not even the Jameson's was doing much to dull the pain. There were _so many_ people in need, and he couldn't do a single thing to help them...

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of the owner of the bar, a green-skinned, sharp-dressing Anagogic demon who went by the name of Krevlorneswath, but preferred to be called Lorne. "Bad day, huh?"

Doyle nodded. "It's reached the point where the pain from the last vision's barely gone before the next one comes along," he admitted, finishing his drink.

Lorne grimaced in sympathy as he signalled for another drink. "Look on the bright side - it _will_ get better, trust me."

That was something Doyle desperately wanted to believe, and it helped that Lorne had managed to convince him to try his hand at singing. The destiny that had been revealed by Doyle's attempt at karaoke was that he would, indeed, make a difference, with his visions proving crucial on more than one occasion. And that was all that Lorne would reveal.

"I suppose so," Doyle replied. "But waiting for things to get better becomes old after a while, y'know?"

Any further conversation was forestalled when the television above the bar cut from the sport broadcast to a news announcement.

"We interrupt regular programming to bring you a breaking news story." The picture changed to show a large building engulfed by flames, with fire-fighting appliances and men with hoses spraying water on the building in an attempt to control the blaze.

"Approximately fifteen minutes ago, a hotel in Chicago was fire-bombed. Eyewitness accounts state that a number of cars drove slowly past the hotel, and the passengers were seen throwing bottles out of the windows," the news anchor was saying. "Seconds later, smoke started billowing from the windows of the hotel, leading to the assumption that the bottles contained some sort of incendiary material. The hotel's sprinkler system proved to be inadequate to deal with the blaze, which rapidly took hold."

The anchor's expression became suitably grave. "To date, there have been _no_ people rescued from the building, and Chicago Fire Department officials are not optimistic about the chances of survival for anybody trapped in the building.

"The Commissioner of the Chicago Police Department has issued a statement deploring the act, and vowing to devote his entire department's resources to bring to justice those responsible for, quote, 'this act of terrorism', unquote."

Whatever the anchor had been about to say next was interrupted by a piece of paper being slid onto the desk from off-screen. After taking a moment to scan the contents, he continued, "This just in; the extremist group, Defenders of Humanity, have claimed responsibility for this act, accusing the owners of the hotel of consorting with the demonic. Quoting from their statement, 'we must not allow sentiment to stand in the way of doing what must be done to defend ourselves from those that wish to exterminate our species. The law has proven itself to be inadequate for the task, forcing us to take that responsibility ourselves. There must be no consorting with the forces of evil, and no leniency for those that do. There is no middle ground - you are with us, or you are against us.'"

There was obviously another interruption, as the anchor pressed lightly on the small microphone in his ear. "I have just received word that the mayor of Chicago, along with the Commissioner of the Chicago Police Department, has just called a press conference in light of today's events."

The picture on the television changed again, to reveal a podium with a small forest of microphones, behind which was standing a man dressed in a fairly expensive suit - the mayor of Chicago.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Press," he said. "I wish the circumstances behind our being here today were better, but they are not.

"Half an hour ago, terrorists from the group 'Defenders of Humanity' attacked a hotel in our fair city." He paused while the assembled journalists murmured quietly, surprised by the strength of the language being used. "Yes, _terrorists_. I have spoken to the President, and he assures me that legislation on the subject will be introduced before Congress at the earliest possible moment.

"Returning to my original statement, however; it is too early to tell how many lives have been lost, but I am informed by the Chief of the Chicago Fire Department that the potential death toll could run into the dozens. I would also like to express my gratitude to the brave men and women of the Chicago Fire Department for their valiant and on-going efforts to rescue people from the scene of the disaster.

"To the so-called 'Defenders of Humanity', I say this: with these acts, you are proving yourselves to be just as evil as those you claim to fight. Our nation is a nation where the rule of law reigns supreme, not rough vigilante 'justice'. By taking the law - what you _see_ as the law, rather - into your own hands, you have placed yourselves outside of its protection, and will suffer the full punishment that can be levied under its strictures."

The mayor clearly had more to say, but Lorne and Doyle - not to mention the other patrons of the club - had heard enough. Switching the television off, Lorne sighed and said, "Thank _you_, Richard Wilkins. It was bad enough before, but now?"

"Better make sure the SEP is working, then," Doyle commented.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Lorne asked plaintively. "It's an _aversion spell_, not a 'Somebody Else's Problem' field. I should never have lent you those 'Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy' novels."

Doyle shrugged, and took a sip of his new drink. "Same thing, really. And I like the name better."

Lorne didn't respond to that; instead muttering something about 'small minds'.

********

**_Office of the Special Advisor to the President (Supernatural Affairs)  
Old Executive Office Building, Washington D.C._**

Rupert Giles was also switching off the television in his office, feeling slightly nauseous. He'd thought witch-hunting - apart from the use of the phrase as an expression - had quietly faded away centuries ago. To find out that it hadn't been buried all that deeply, simply waiting for the right opportunity to emerge once more was... not exactly surprising, since he couldn't honestly say that he was all that surprised, but it was _certainly_ disturbing, and showed quite clearly what people were willing to do to one another on the slightest pretext.

He was jolted from his gloomy thoughts when the phone on his desk rang. "Rupert Giles."

"Heya, Giles," the voice on the other end of the phone responded, and Giles smiled involuntarily despite the situation. "How's things?"

"Apart from the atrocity that is currently being reported, quite well, thank you, Xander," Giles replied.

"Yeah, that _is_ sickening," Xander replied in a much more serious tone of voice. "You'd think that people would have more to worry about now."

"People will always find reasons to be extremely unpleasant to each other, I'm afraid. All that is required is an excuse, in most cases."

"That's more true than I want to think about at the moment," Xander admitted. "But enough of that. I called to see how you were, not to hear about nasty things happening. So, have you been given a big office near the White House with all the trimmings?"

"Well, the office _is_ quite spacious," Giles replied. "And the view out of the window does feature the White House quite prominently, although I must admit some confusion; what do you mean when you say 'all the trimmings'?"

"You know, Giles - attractive secretary and all that."

"Now that you mention it, Xander, yes I _do_ have a secretary - or 'personal assistant', as the current terminology seems to be," he said before pausing. "And, yes, she is an attractive young woman."

"Thought so," Xander said with a chuckle. "Don't go being a dirty old man... or if you must, don't get caught, okay?"

It was at that point that Giles' imagination shut down. "Thank you for reminding me of that, Xander," he said drily.

"You're welcome, Giles."

"And might I enquire as to how you are faring, Xander?"

"Great, Giles. We've been training with some of the Special Forces guys, including the Australian and English troops. I never knew that there were so many ways of fighting dirty, but then again, there's only one rule when fighting vampires - survive."

"That is quite true, Xander," Giles admitted. "Is the training progressing well?"

"So far, anyway. We start with the weapons training tomorrow, which should be really interesting." Giles had to repress a shudder at the thought of American teenagers with automatic weapons. "Oh, yeah. Speaking of soldier-type stuff, Soldier Boy seems to be making a comeback."

"What do you mean?" Giles asked, somewhat concerned.

"Nothing too drastic," Xander assured him. "During one of the unarmed-combat lessons yesterday, he started whispering suggestions to me. After a while, I started following them, and ended up winning the sparring match against the SAS guy that was instructing us. I'm not sure who was more surprised - him or me. After all, I'd just pulled off a few moves straight from the SAS Handbook... and which we hadn't been shown yet."

"That is most intriguing, Xander," Giles said. "And it would seem to lend credence to the theory that it was, indeed, a British soldier whose memories you received."

"It's not just the skills that are coming back, but some of the memories, as well. Apparently, this guy served in Vietnam, the Falklands and Northern Ireland... which is where he died," Xander finished sombrely. "There's a request being sent to - what was the name of the place again? Hereford? - for information. Maybe we can find out who he was."

"Yes, Hereford is where the British Special Air Service is headquartered," Giles replied. "Do you have any idea why the memories and skills should be returning?"

"Not really. But we've been looking into it, and the best explanation we could find was that we're spending a lot of time hanging around soldiers," Xander explained. "That might have something to do with it."

"That is a possibility," Giles admitted, feeling proud of the young man. He'd obviously chosen wisely when he'd decided to turn over the responsibility of being Watchers - he couldn't bring himself _not_ to use the term - for both Buffy and Faith over to Willow, Oz and Xander. Their research skills were probably at least up to the standard required for the role - in fact, over the last couple of months prior to Graduation, he'd acted more to direct the direction of research into the latest threat to rear its head. And Xander had always been willing to help Buffy train, even though his own fighting skills had been below par.

That was what the Council of Watchers had recently considered to be the role of a Field Watcher. And when the emotional support that had been available for Buffy - even though they might not have always told Buffy what she wanted to hear, Xander in particular had always told her what she _needed_ to hear.

And when the burgeoning relationship between Buffy and Xander was taken into account...

"You still there, Giles?"

Xander's voice snapped Giles from his thoughts. "Yes, Xander. Sorry about that; I was thinking about something."

"That's all right, Giles. You old guys tend to drift off without warning." Giles could easily imagine the grin that Xander was wearing as he said that. "Oh, by the way, we've heard some rumours about a place where non-violent demons are supposed to hang out in Los Angeles called 'Caritas'. Have you heard of the place?"

"I seem to recall hearing the name before," Giles replied. "If you'll wait a moment, I'll look it up." Wedging the phone handset between ear and shoulder, he laboriously typed the name into the computer on the desk in front of him.

Xander must have heard the clicking of the keys. "Giles! You're using a _computer_!" He let out a sniff that was as fake as a three-dollar bill. "Willow is going to be so _proud_ when I tell her."

Giles ignored the comment as the information he requested was displayed on the screen. It didn't take long to read, as there wasn't a great deal of it. "From the limited information at my disposal, it would seem that Caritas is a neutral meeting ground, with violence being prohibited on the premises. In addition, according to the files the Council had, it would also seem that a large proportion of the patrons would, indeed, be of a pacifistic inclination."

"Thanks for the info, Giles. We're going to check the place out fairly soon, and I thought it would be a good idea to get as much info as possible before we waltz in through the doors. Not that that was the only reason I called, of course."

"Quite." Giles heard the shift in Xander's tone for his last sentence, which meant that the next subject that he would raise was going to be extremely serious. "Might I enquire, though, as to how Faith and Buffy are doing?"

"Faith's still a little nervous around us, which shouldn't really come as a surprise, but she seems to be settling down a little." There was a pause, after which Xander continued in a more sombre tone of voice. "Y'know, Giles, looking back, I'm really appalled by the way we treated Faith when she first arrived. I can't help but think that if we'd been a little nicer to her, she mightn't have gone over to the Dark Side. Buffy and Willow seem to think so as well, since they're making an effort to be friends with her."

"That is a conclusion that I have also come to," Giles agreed. "And I, too, am ashamed of my behaviour towards Faith in the early stages of her time in Sunnydale. But that is in the past now, and all we can do is hope to make up for it - which is something you and the others seem to have well in hand."

"So far, anyway. But I guess that's something we'll have to take one day at a time."

Giles waited for Xander to continue, but after a few moments passed and Xander didn't seem particularly inclined to do so, he prompted, "And how is Buffy doing?"

"She's doing fine, Giles. A little restless, due to not going out on patrols, but apart from that... erm..." Xander's voice trailed off, and Giles realised that he was about to broach the serious subject now.

"You're falling in love with her," Giles stated, deciding to show mercy on the young man.

"Not falling - fallen," Xander admitted. "But there's something that has to be dealt with first." He paused, and for some reason Giles had the feeling that he was steeling himself for something. "Last year, when Angelus was on the loose... when me and Buffy went up to the mansion - me to rescue you, Buffy to deal with Angelus." The word 'finally' was unspoken, but both men were thinking it. "Before we left, Willow told me to tell Buffy that she was going to try to cast the soul curse again."

Hearing that story dredged up memories that Giles had been trying to forget; of the torture that Angelus had inflicted on him in order to obtain the key to Acathla and end the world. "And?" he prompted when Xander didn't seem inclined to continue.

"I lied to her," Xander said quietly. "Instead of telling her about the curse, I told her that Willow said to 'kick his ass'. And the rest, as they say, is history - the spell worked, Angel got his soul back... and got sent to Hell."

Giles was rendered speechless. This story revealed a side of Xander that he didn't think existed - the almost-ruthless streak, willing to do just about _anything_ to protect his friends, no matter the cost. A moment's thought was sufficient for him to be fairly sure that he had worked out the reason for Xander's actions on that day, but...

"Why?" he asked neutrally.

"I'm not sure, Giles," Xander admitted. "Maybe there was a little bit of jealousy involved, maybe there was a desire for revenge... but I'm pretty certain the main reason was fear. After all, the lives of every person on the planet were at stake, and given the fact that Buffy had let Angelus get away every time they'd met, I couldn't be sure that she'd fight him properly if she thought there was a chance that she'd get Angel back."

"And what of Willow's efforts to restore his soul?" Giles asked. "Not that I doubt your integrity - I merely wish to understand the reasoning behind your actions."

"That's all right, Giles," Xander replied. "In fact, talking about my reasons like this is helping me to get it all sorted out myself. It wasn't that I didn't have faith in Willow's abilities; it was just that the soul curse was a fairly complicated spell, it was also the first spell that she'd cast, and to top it all off, she was in hospital with a fairly serious head injury."

"Ah, I see now the reasons behind your concerns." Giles paused to think a moment. "To be honest, Xander, I can understand that you did what you felt was necessary, but it's doubtful that Buffy and Willow will see things the same way. I assume, of course, that they do not know?"

Xander snorted half-heartedly. "That's a pretty safe assumption to make. After all, they're still talking to me."

"And you're worried that, if they find out, it will have a detrimental effect of your friendship with them?"

"No 'if' about it, Giles," Xander replied. "I _will_ tell them. If I'm going to start dating Buffy, I won't have something like this hanging over our heads. And the effect that I'm worried that this little number will have on my friendship with them is to kick the hell out of it. Truth be told, I'm pretty amazed that Buffy didn't find out when she was a mind-reader a few months back."

"The Sword of Damocles," Giles muttered. "I can't help but respect the courage you're showing in bringing what can only be an extremely sensitive topic into the open like this," he continued in a more normal tone of voice.

"Courage, hell," Xander snorted. "If I'd had real courage, I'd have told them about this _much_ sooner, but I kept on wussing out."

"Nevertheless, Xander," Giles said firmly. "The fact that you are willing to reveal this at all shows great personal courage and maturity on your part."

"Thanks, Giles. That means a lot to me."

********

**_Slayerette House, Miramar NAS_**

Buffy, Willow and Xander were gathered in the lounge room in comfortable silence, with Buffy and Willow sharing the couch, and Xander perched in one of the armchairs. At that moment, Oz, Faith and Joyce were out of the house - Oz was taking a walk somewhere, Faith was having a talk with Father Jim as part of her counselling, and Joyce was doing some shopping - and both Buffy and Willow were wondering if Xander had arranged that somehow.

"All right, Xander," Willow said, breaking the silence, which had stretched just far enough to stop being comfortable. "I'm guessing that you've got something to say, and only to the two of us. So tell us, already."

"Okay, Will," Xander replied, and took a deep breath. Buffy noticed that his expression seemed to be both determined and worried at the same time, almost as if he was about to say something he _really_ didn't want to, but was going to anyway. A sidelong glance at Willow revealed that she'd noticed the same thing...

"Cast your mind back to last year, when the Angelus crisis was drawing to a close," Xander started. "Particularly to the time when we went up to the mansion to rescue Giles and deal with Angelus. Before we left, Buffy, Willow said to tell you that she was going to try to do the soul curse again."

Buffy suddenly sat bolt upright. "But you said-" she stopped, unable to believe what her ears were reporting to her brain.

Xander nodded sadly. "That's right - I said that Willow said to 'kick his ass'."

Buffy's expression started to crumple. "Why, Xander? Were you _that_ jealous of Angel that you'd..." Unable to finish the sentence, she rested her elbows on her knees and rested her head in her hands and started to sob. Willow drew Buffy into a supportive embrace and shot Xander a poisonous glare over Buffy's back.

"Jealousy wasn't the main reason - at least I don't _think_ it was. I think it had more to do with the fact that there were six _billion_ lives - those of every man, woman and child on the planet - in the balance that night, and that was something I did _not_ want to take chances with."

Willow reluctantly nodded. She could understand that line of reasoning, but still...

And there was one more thing for her to take issue with. "Didn't you think that I'd be able to successfully cast the soul curse?"

As reluctantly as she'd nodded a few moments ago, Xander shook his head. "Not with enough confidence to let the outcome rely on it, Will." Seeing her face turn almost as red as her hair, Xander hastened to explain. "Think about it - it was a complicated spell, you hadn't worked any magic at _all_ before that night, and you were in the hospital with a concussion. What would that do to your chances of pulling it off?"

Willow forced herself to think about it rationally. One of the few things that Jenny Calendar had managed to teach her about the use of magic before her death was that it was an extremely delicate process, requiring a great deal of concentration. Any major disruption to that concentration - such as a head injury, for instance - would have unpredictable effects on the success or failure of the spell being attempted. It might work as expected, it might be spectacularly successful... or it might be an equally spectacular failure. But-

"But it _worked_, Xander. I managed to restore Angel's soul," Willow countered with an icy calm that seemed to go right through anger and out the other side.

"I know," Xander said sadly. "But it was too late. Acathla had already started to open when Angel got his soul back." Unspoken was a question - what did she think that Buffy would have done if she'd known from the start that there was a chance that Angel would get his soul back?

Willow thought about it. She didn't like the answer she got, but she was honest enough with herself to admit it - if Buffy had been told about the attempt to restore Angel's soul, she probably wouldn't have gone all out in an attempt to draw the fight out long enough for Angel to return. But if Xander was telling the truth about Acathla starting to open-

_Xander's already admitted to lying about one thing that night_, Willow thought. _What's to say that he isn't lying about this as well?_

Any reply she might have given, however, was forestalled when Buffy stopped crying long enough to say, "Get out," in a flat tone of voice that sent a shiver down her spine - and it hadn't been aimed at her.

Xander nodded sadly, and got up to leave. Just after he opened the door, but before he left, he turned back towards Buffy. "Buffy?" he said softly. Buffy looked up from where she'd replaced her head in her hands to resume sobbing. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry."

********

**_Non-Commissioned Officer's Club, Miramar NAS_**

Allan Deniston entered the bar, feeling each and every one of the bruises on his body. That was the _last_ time he'd join the Aussies and Brits for a game of rugby - at least, not without a _lot_ more padding to absorb the frighteningly brutal force of the tackles. He definitely needed a beer or two to numb the pain.

As he was making his way to the bar - near-deserted at this time of the day - he noticed Xander sitting by himself in one corner, staring moodily into a glass of beer. That was unusual for two reasons; the first that he was by himself, and the second was the expression of abject misery on his face. For some reason Allan suspected the two were closely linked.

Grabbing a glass from the bar, he wandered over to Xander's table. "Hey, Xander," he said, causing the young man to start slightly. "Mind if I join you?"

Startled, Xander looked for the source of the voice. "Sure, Allan. Go right ahead," he said, staring into the beer once more. He knew that he wasn't being the best of company right now, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to care too much.

Allan sat down opposite him and poured himself a glass from the jug in the centre of the table before taking a long swallow. "That's better," he said with a contented sigh. "Hey, Xander, you know the beer tastes better if you actually _drink_ it."

"Yeah, so I've heard," Xander replied absently, lifting the glass to take a small sip.

Allan moved his own beer off to one side slightly. Whatever was bugging Xander was _serious_. "What's on your mind?"

Without looking up, Xander said, "Picture this - you're deeply in love with someone, but that person has chosen somebody else, a person that you really, _really_ don't like. Something goes wrong - and it's to do with that person. After a series of bad things happening, it's come to the point where action is finally being taken, mainly because every other alternative is worse. You find yourself being forced to lie to the person that you love in order to stop one of those worse alternatives from happening. It works, but the person you love is forced to do something that she _really_ didn't want to do."

Xander took a deep breath and continued. "Later on, things are starting to look up for you. You're still in love with that person, and it's starting to look possible - just possible, mind you - that she's starting to show an interest in you as well. But the lie you've told is still between the two of you. What do you do? Do you stay quiet and hope that she doesn't find out? Or do you do the honest thing and tell her?"

Allan took a sip of his own beer while he sorted it out in his head. He was fairly certain that he understood what Xander was getting at; after all, despite many jokes and comments to the contrary - usually made by people who weren't SEALs, and to which SEALs showed no hesitation in responding in kind - SEALs are not stupid people. It was Allan's inner smart-arse that responded first, however.

"I'd go with option three - shoot myself for ever getting into that situation in the first place." When Xander glared at him, Allan help up his hands placatingly. "I know, that wasn't much help," he said with a small sigh. "Let me guess - you're talking about the Buffy/Angelus situation last year, right?"

Xander's glare shifted to a look of confusion.

"The pre-mission briefing we got _did_ go into a fair amount of detail, you know." Allan thought about it some more, before continuing. "Shit, I don't know. I'd be more inclined to tell her, but that's just me." Something went _click_ in Allan's mind at that moment. "And that was also what you did too, right?"

Xander nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Sometimes, honesty can be a real curse, y'know? But I suppose it's better than her finding out later. An angry Buffy is _not_ something I want to see," he concluded with a shudder.

"That's true," Allan conceded, as his sometimes too-active imagination filled in the details, causing him to shudder as well. "But leaving romantic concerns aside for the moment, you're still going to have to work with her. Do you think you can do that, or are other arrangements going to have to be made?"

"Hopefully not," Xander replied. "But if it comes down to it, I suppose I can go to Washington to help Giles."

"That's a last resort," Allan pointed out. "There are other cities we're setting up operations in on the West Coast, such as San Francisco, San Diego and Seattle, to name a few. You could always be transferred to one of those cities."

"Yeah, but I'd feel like I was running away. Giles asked me to help Buffy here, and I'd prefer to do that if I can," Xander said. "Of course that depends on her ever wanting to talk to me again. God, I wish I knew how she felt right about now."

Allan was about to reply, when a hint of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Glancing over Xander's shoulder, he saw Buffy standing in the doorway. Indicating with a nod that he wanted Xander to look behind him, he said, "Well, it looks as if you'll get the chance to find out."

"What?"

********

After Xander had left, Willow continued to comfort a crying Buffy while thinking about what Xander had said. As much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to think that jealousy _hadn't_ been the primary motivation for Xander lying about the soul curse. In fact, she recalled, the expression on his face when she'd told him about her second attempt to cast the soul curse hadn't been jealousy, it had been-

Her thoughts were interrupted when Buffy stopped crying long enough to wail brokenly, "Why, Willow, _WHY_? Was he that jealous of Angel?"

"No, I don't think so," Willow said slowly. When Buffy turned an incredulous look her way, she added, "I remember the expression on his face when I told him to tell you that I was trying the soul curse again. It wasn't jealousy - it was fear. He was scared, Buffy, scared that if he told you, you wouldn't give your all; scared that Angelus would kill you; scared that Angelus would open Acathla and suck the world into hell. _That_ was what his expression was saying at the time."

"What about you, Willow? Aren't you upset that he didn't think you'd be able to successfully cast the spell?" Buffy asked, her crying having subsided to a few sniffles.

Willow nodded. "Sure, but what he said made sense. In fact, to be honest, I'm not sure why it worked in the first place - I certainly haven't been able to work anything like it since then."

Realisation began to dawn on Buffy's face. "You know what that means, Willow? It means that, once again, Xander was there for me. It might not have been something I _wanted_ to do, but it was something I _needed_ to do, and I was angry at him just now because I thought he'd manipulated me. And he had - he'd manipulated me into doing my job."

Willow nodded her agreement with what Buffy was saying. "And every time he said that Angelus should have been staked like any other vampire, he was probably the only one of us who was thinking clearly. He even stuck to his guns and didn't waver, not even when both of us were trying to get him to change his mind." Willow's expression became sombre. "In fact, I'd say we both owe him a big apology for what just happened."

Buffy nodded. "I know, Willow. But this is... something I need to do by myself, if it's all right with you."

Willow's expression became speculative. "Okay, Buffy. Just make sure you pass along my apology as well."

Buffy sprang to her feet and headed for the door. "I'll be sure to do that Willow. And thanks!" she added as she left. Unknown to her, Willow was smiling gently. She'd just figured out the reason for Buffy's shift in emotions, and if she was right... well, her two best friends deserved a little happiness after what had happened.

********

**_NCO's Club_**

Buffy had been looking for Xander for a little over an hour, without much luck. Apart from the beach - always a favourite place to sit and think about things - there were a few other quiet places on the base for a contemplative moment. There weren't actually all _that_ many; despite the size of the base, most of it was high-traffic, such as the flight line, armouries, aircraft parking and maintenance areas, and the new areas being set up for Operation Stoker which included a Kill House and Military Operations in Urban Terrain - MOUT for short - setup.

Despite that, Buffy checked the flight line and aircraft parking areas, anyway. Since their return from Australia, Xander had enjoyed watching the aircraft based at Miramar conduct take-offs and landings, as well as wandering through the aircraft lines, usually finding a pilot or two who was willing to talk, not to mention show off his shiny taxpayer-funded toy. He hadn't yet managed to convince any of them to take him up for a joyride, but he was also certain that that wasn't too far off in the future.

While carrying out her search, Buffy also had a lot of time to think, particularly about the way she had reacted to Xander's revelation, and why he had revealed it in the first place. _He_ had _to know that I'd react the way I did - or something like it anyway. So why'd he surrender that secret?_

She wandered almost aimlessly for a couple of minutes while she turned that over in her mind. _Could it be that he was going to ask me out, and didn't want that hanging over our heads?_ If so, it was a loud and clear statement about his personality. Sure, she was still peeved that he'd lied to her in the first place about it, but her new-found perspective on the subject allowed her to remain rational. _He did what he thought he had to do. In fact, he was probably willing to sacrifice his friendship with both me and Willow in order to make sure the world didn't end_.

She almost came to a halt as the implications of that thought began to sink in. _Is there any length that he wouldn't go to, up to and including giving up his own life, to protect those he calls his friends?_ In fact, at Graduation, he had been ready and willing to do _exactly_ that - except for Angel's intervention which, in turn, led to Angel's own sacrifice.

_Xander and Angel. Angel and Xander_. Both men were very important to her, even when they hadn't exactly gotten along all that well. That thought prompted Buffy to make sure that she wasn't simply transferring her feelings for Angel to Xander.

As best she could tell, that wasn't the case. Xander had simply worked his way into her heart, especially over the last two months or so. He'd always been willing to offer her support, along with a joke or two when things weren't going all that well, be it Hellmouth-related or more personal. He was also unafraid to speak his mind, regardless of the consequences - lying to her about the curse was the sole exception to that, although it seemed that he'd had his reasons. In short, he'd been a rock for her, and even when she'd been with Angel, she'd somewhat unconsciously made use of that support. Plus, there was one more thing she wanted to ask him about.

At that moment, she realised that she was passing one of the sergeant's messes. Realising that she could do with a drink and a short rest before continuing her search, she decided to stop in here.

Fate, it seemed, was not without a sense of irony, for as soon as she stepped through the door, she spotted Xander, along with one of the SEAL team leaders, sharing a jug of beer and involved in a relatively low-voiced conversation. Her first reaction was worry - _Ohmigod! Did I hurt him_ that _badly that he decided to drown his sorrows?_ - before she noticed that the glasses in front of the two men were more than half-full and that the amount missing from the jug was enough to fill two glasses.

As she pondered the situation, the SEAL looked up - allowing her to recognise him as Allan Deniston - and nodded in her direction. He obviously said something to Xander, as he started slightly and spun around to face her. "Hi, Buffy," Xander said in a slightly dejected tone of voice.

"Hi, Xander. Allan," Buffy replied, trying to be more cheerful.

"Hi, Buffy," Allan said, just as cheerfully as Buffy, although she noticed that he was in some pain.

"What happened to you?"

"I got talked into joining the Aussies and Brits for a game of rugby," Allan replied with a slight wince. "I won't be doing that again in a hurry, that's for sure."

Buffy winced sympathetically. She'd watched them play, and marvelled that half of the players hadn't been hospitalised. "Erm, Allan, there's something I want to talk to Xander about, so..."

Allan took the hint straight away. Draining his beer, he stood up and said, "Well, since the beer didn't do a lot to numb the pain, maybe a nice hot shower will. See you later."

Once he'd left, Buffy turned to Xander. "Mind if I take a seat?" she asked, deciding to start off with something simple.

"Sure," Xander replied, obviously wondering what was going to happen next.

Buffy didn't keep him in suspense for too long. "Xander," she started once she'd sat down next to him, "after you left, I talked to Willow, and we both want to apologise for the way we reacted."

Xander stared incredulously at her. "No, Buffy, I should be the one apologising, after all-"

Buffy gently laid a finger across his lips, interrupting him. She couldn't help but notice the way his lips twitched. "No, Xander - you did the right thing when you lied to me. If you'd told me the truth, I probably would have held back in the hopes that Willow would have managed to successfully cast the soul curse. And we both know that, by the time Angel's soul was restored, Acathla was opening, so it probably would have been too late. As much as I might wish otherwise, as events turned out, I probably would have had to send Angel to hell, anyway," Buffy concluded, a tear trickling down her cheek despite her best efforts at self-control.

Xander wrapped his arms around her in a supporting hug. "I'm sorry that things turned out the way they did, Buffy, but I honestly can't say I'd do anything different if I had to do it all over again."

Buffy nodded sadly. "I know that, Xander - it's part of who you are, and I wouldn't want you to change that for anything. In fact, it'd probably be me who would have to do things differently if I got a second chance."

Xander wasn't going to let her denigrate herself like that, however. "To be fair to you, though, you had no way of knowing what would happen. We didn't find out about the escape clause in Angel's curse until it was too late, remember?"

"I know," Buffy admitted. "But I still should have had more self-control."

"Enough of that, Buffy," Xander said firmly. "There's not much point in hashing over the past - all you'll get is a stress ulcer." Buffy giggled for a moment, and then sent him a level look. "All right... sometimes it _is_ important to talk about past events, but not in this case, all right?"

That was the opening that Buffy had been waiting for. "Speaking of, Xander," she started. "When I was in the hospital with the flu that time, some time during the night, I could have _sworn_ I heard voices; yours and Angel... us' to be precise. But I figured it was some sort of hallucination. Was it?"

Xander looked somewhat uncomfortable, but he decided to tell the truth. _I've already lied to her about something big once - that's enough._ Apart from that, Buffy was turning a wide-eyed, imploring gaze at him, probably with malice aforethought. _Even if I'd_ wanted _to lie, there's no way I'd be able to_.

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Xander said, "Well, Angelus paid a visit to the hospital, and I kinda... got him to leave." He didn't add anything else, obviously hoping that would satisfy Buffy's curiosity.

If he was hoping that, he was just as obviously deluding himself. "_What_?" Buffy near-shouted. "What were you thinking?"

"Mainly, hoping that he wouldn't kill, or worse, turn you," Xander admitted.

"Weren't you scared?"

"Terrified, actually."

"So, why'd you do it?"

"He was going to either turn you or kill you, Buffy," Xander said. "There was no way I was going to stand aside and let him without doing _something_."

"But you could have been killed! Did you at least have a stake or a cross on you at the time?"

Xander shrugged uncomfortably. "No."

"And Angelus just left?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"Pretty much."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. In fact, I was pretty amazed myself when he just turned around and left. Of course, I was feeling pretty shaky afterwards."

"No wonder." Buffy was staring at him in amazement. He'd laid his life on the line for her - again - without a second thought. _And you were trying to keep him out of the Slayage for fear of him getting hurt?_ a small voice in the back of her mind asked. _Is it any surprise that he kept on ignoring you?_

_No_, Buffy admitted silently. _He can be pretty damned stubborn when he wants to be._

_Not to mention pretty much completely devoted to you_, the voice added dryly.

_Yeah_.

"Erm... Buffy?"

It was then that Buffy realised that she'd been staring at Xander for slightly longer than would normally be considered polite. "Just thinking," she replied.

"What about?"

"This." Deciding to seize the moment, she leaned forward and kissed him. Her eyes were closed, so she didn't see the way his eyes opened wide with astonishment, but she _did_ notice it when, a couple of seconds later, Xander's body, obviously deciding that his brain was elsewhere, wrapped his arms around her and leaned into the kiss.

When they broke the kiss, a while later, they sat back slightly and just looked into each others' eyes. "Wow," they breathed, pretty much simultaneously.

Xander was the first to recover his composure. "When?" he asked - obviously, he hadn't recovered all _that_ much of his composure.

Buffy understood what he'd meant, though. "A while now, but mostly during the last week of our holiday in Australia," she confessed. "You?"

"Pretty much since the first day you arrived in Sunnydale," Xander confessed in turn. "But the holiday was also pretty much the deciding point."

Buffy chuckled softly. "So, you could say that the holiday was good for us in more ways than one."

Xander grinned. "Yeah, you could say that."

********

**_Slayerette House_**

When they returned to the house - hand-in-hand, of course - Willow was talking to Joyce, and Oz was sitting beside her, making the occasional comment, but mainly just sitting and observing, as was his habit.

The three of them turned when they heard the door opening, and their gazes fell, as if drawn by a mysterious force, to Buffy and Xander's intertwined hands. Their reactions were varied, but pretty much in character.

Oz merely lifted an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

Joyce's smile was more obvious, as was her approval and happiness for the two of them.

Willow squealed happily and leapt to her feet and raced forward to envelop both Buffy and Xander in joyous hugs. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!" she babbled. "This is _great_! Wait until I tell Faith-" She broke off as she noticed that Buffy and Xander were valiantly trying to hold back laughter, an effort that failed as first Xander, and then Buffy started chuckling, which quickly became fully-fledged laughter. "Whaa-at?"

"We're not laughing _at_ you, Will," Xander managed to say. "Well, not much, anyway." Bringing his laughter under control, he returned the hug. "Don't you ever change, okay?"

"What he said," Buffy said as she also hugged Willow.

"This is a happy little scene," Joyce commented with a smile.

"Er, Mom..." Buffy started to say.

"Don't worry," Joyce interrupted. "You're eighteen now, and I trust you to make your own decisions. Although, for what it's worth, you have my approval, blessing and support. Just be careful, all right?" she added in a tone of voice that indicated perfectly what she wanted them to be careful _about_.

"Mom!" Buffy squeaked, her face turning a bright red. When both Joyce and Oz chuckled, her face went from bright red to practically incandescent. Valiantly attempting to rally herself, Buffy said, "Just like that? No inspection?"

"I don't think there's an real need for one - after all, over the last couple of years, I think I've gotten to know Xander pretty well, don't you agree?"

Buffy had to agree with that statement. After all the times that Xander and Willow had visited during her time in Sunnydale, usually bringing videos and junk food, her mother _had_ gotten to know both Willow and Xander pretty well. Actually, the lack of a 'boyfriend inspection' came as something of a relief, even though she was confident that Xander would pass any such test with flying colours.

Releasing Xander's hand and taking a couple of steps forward, she hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered.

"You're welcome, dear."

********

**_NCO's Club_**

It had become a habit they'd fallen in to ever since their return from Australia. At least as often as they would go to The Bronze back in Sunnydale, the teenagers visited the various messes on the base, a different one each night. Tonight's mess was one of the sergeant's messes.

As they approached the building, Faith asked, "Do you think the Aussies will be there tonight?"

Walking next to her, with his arm around Buffy's shoulders, and her arm around his waist, Xander replied with a chuckle, "Well, the bar's open-"

"And it's a day ending with a 'y'," Buffy concluded, also chuckling. "So, I think the chances would be good."

Faith didn't take offence - instead she chuckled along with them. "Why do you want to know, Faith?" Willow asked from Faith's other side, where she was walking hand-in-hand with Oz. "Got your eye on one of them, have you?"

"No," Faith protested weakly, not convincing anyone. She was spared further embarrassment, though, when from the mess, they heard-

_"'Beer! Beer! Beer!' said the privates - merry old souls are we!  
"There's none so fine in the firing line  
"Like the Royal Oz Infantry!"_

"And that answers _that_ question," Xander said dryly, as the next verse of the 'song' began, at top volume and without anything resembling a tune, or singing talent, for that matter.

_"Old King Cole was a merry old soul, and a merry old soul was he!  
"He called for his pipes in the middle of the night  
"And he called for his corporals three!  
"'Left-right-left-right-left!' said the corporals  
"'Beer! Beer! Beer!' said the privates - merry old souls are we!  
"There's none so fine in the firing line  
"Like the Royal Oz Infantry!"_

"After you," Xander said, graciously allowing Faith to enter first.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," Faith replied, with only a hint of sarcasm.

Buffy and Xander were the next to enter, and both 'song' and conversation stopped dead as the soldiers present noticed their arms around each other. The silence changed briefly to a more speculative silence, and then...

"PAY ME, SUCKERS!"

That triumphant shout was quickly followed by a chorus of groans. "What was that about?" Buffy asked, slightly confused.

"If I had to guess, I'd say 'betting pool'," Xander replied.

"Betting pool? As in, people _betting_ on whether we'd get together or not?"

"Yep, and judging by the way the barman's lunging for the phone... dialling rapidly... and now, talking excitedly, I'd say that there were quite a few people involved."

"You're getting pretty observant, Xander," Buffy said with a smile.

"If I'm going to be your Watcher, young lady," Xander replied in his best imitation of an English accent - which wasn't all _that_ good, truth be told - "then I'm going to have to be quite observant, aren't I?" Buffy giggled and snuggled a little closer to Xander.

As they made their way through the fairly crowded room with Willow and Oz close behind them, they returned greetings and grinned at plaintive comments along the lines of, "Couldn't you two have gotten together yesterday/tomorrow/x days ago/x days from now?"

Before too long, they'd reached their regular table, and found seats as Oz peeled off to get drinks. "Why am I not surprised to find you involved, Tom?" Xander said to one of the soldiers already at the table.

Tom Alderson, a corporal in the Australian Special Air Service Regiment, grinned at them as yet another person deposited a note on the already fairly-substantial pile in front of them. "You should know by now that we'll bet on just about _anything_, Xander," he said.

"True," Xander admitted, pulling out a chair for Buffy - who rolled her eyes and smiled at his antics - and taking a seat for himself. "In fact, I can't help but wonder if this was your idea in the first place."

Tom grinned again, but shook his head. "As much as I'd like to claim credit for the idea," he replied, "it wasn't mine."

"Then who's was it?" Buffy asked.

Instead of replying, Tom glanced to the left. Both Buffy and Xander turned their gazes that way, to see...

Willow, who was smiling unrepentantly at them. "Willow?" Buffy asked amazed.

"It wasn't just me," Willow replied.

"Who else-" Buffy stopped short as Oz returned with drinks. "You too, Oz?"

"Busted, huh?" Oz remarked as he sat down next to Willow.

"Turned in, more like," she replied.

"Figures."

"Were we the _last_ people to figure it out?" Buffy asked Xander plaintively.

"Looks like it," Xander agreed, which cause the other people at the table to burst into laughter.

********

**_Slayerette House_**

It was fast approaching one in the morning by the time they returned home, having enjoyed themselves immensely. There had been a slight surprise when they'd wondered where Faith had gotten to, and looked around for her, only to see her in close conversation with a young soldier. That little nugget of information had been filed away for future reference.

Oz and Willow made their goodnights and headed to their room. Buffy and Xander paused at Buffy's door to indulge in a long, slow kiss. Once the kiss was over, Xander made as if to go to his own room - which was next door - but Buffy tightened her grip on him. "Stay," she said softly. "Please?" she added when he looked dubious.

"Isn't it a bit soon to...?" Xander trailed off, unsure as to how to continue.

"Not that, Xander," Buffy said. "I just want you to... hold me. Please?" she asked again.

"How can I refuse?" he said, causing Buffy to smile lovingly at him as she opened the door to her room and led him inside.


	2. Work Hard, Play Hard

**_Brand New World - Work Hard, Play Hard_**

**_Author: Robert Cox (smeghead_76@dodo.com.au)_**

**_Rating: M-15+ (Australian system) for violence, language and other fun stuff_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own diddly. That's literally, as well as in the sense of this story, so it'd be an exercise in futility to sue._**

**_Summary: As the world comes to terms with the supernatural, the US government gets involved in the vampire-slaying business._**

**_Pairings: Oz/Willow, Buffy/Xander... for real, this time!_**

**_Feedback: Please? Even if it's to tell me what I'm doing wrong..._**

**_AN: More thanks to Danyel, who once again, devoted his valuable time to beta-ing this._**

**_AN2: The songs are, in order of performance, 'The Freshmen' by the Verve Pipe, 'True Colours' by Cyndi Lauper, 'Iris' by the Goo Goo Dolls, and Queen's 'Princes of the Universe'. _**

********

**_Slayerette House, Miramar NAS_**

Xander woke up suddenly, and for a few moments, wondered exactly where he was. This wasn't his room. Enlightenment came in the form of the gorgeous blonde in his arms. 

_Blonde... beautiful... Buffy?_

He froze for a moment, afraid that this would turn out to be nothing more than a particularly nice dream. Then Buffy mumbled something incoherent, and snuggled a little closer, which conclusively proved that he was awake. Of course, he also lost the ability to think coherently for the next couple of minutes, but that was a small price to pay.

As he lay awake, gazing lovingly at the woman he loved, a new voice broke into his thoughts.

_Come on, lad. Time to start the new day._

Xander groaned - quietly, so as not to disturb Buffy - in dismay. _Five more minutes?_ he addressed the extra tenant in his head.

_You've had six hours, what more do you want?_ the voice replied with a gentle snort. It was a _little_ more complicated than that, but that was the way Xander chose to interpret the feeling. Despite the fact that he now had a room-mate in his head, it was still _his_ head, dammit, and-

_And just_ what _do you plan to do? Charge rent?_

_That's not all that bad an idea, now that you mention it, except for the fact that you probably don't have any money, and even if you did, how would I go about collecting it?_

_I would have thought that the invariably excellent advice I've been giving you recently would count as rent_, the voice - Soldier Boy - said dryly. _But to return to the original topic, if you wanted more time, then you should have gone to bed earlier._

_True_, Xander admitted. _But last night was special, and I wasn't too keen for it to end, not even... hey,_ why _am I trying to explain this to you? You_ were_ there after all, and since you're on the inside of my skull, you've also got a pretty good idea of my thought processes as well._

_So? I've always been of the opinion that if things are talked out, they become clearer._

Xander wasn't paying all that much attention, and only the fact that the 'conversation' was taking pace entirely within his own mind allowed him to notice it at all. To be fair to him, though, the fact that he was staring at Buffy's sleeping features - so much more relaxed and peaceful than when she was awake - as if committing every detail to memory was probably enough to grant him some leeway. In some distant corner of his mind, he hadn't fully caught up with the fact that Buffy was in love with him, and-

_Enough of that, young man!_ Soldier Boy snapped. _I can see I am going to have to do something about your apparent lack of self-esteem. Most young men in your position would be overjoyed, not worried._

_Yeah, but..._ Xander replied weakly.

_But nothing!_ Soldier Boy rejoined, before continuing in an apparent _non sequitur_, _What's the motto of the Regiment?_ Naturally, he didn't have to say _which_ regiment.

_Who Dares Wins_, Xander replied, wondering where this was heading.

_Precisely! You dared, and you won. Now stop fretting and drag your sorry arse out of bed. Today's the day you and the others start weapons training_, Soldier Boy added with an over-exaggerated shudder.

_Hey! I'm not_ that _bad, I'll have you know... well, I don't_ think _so, anyway_, Xander clarified, considering that he'd never really used a firearm before.

That _doesn't exactly fill me with confidence_,> Soldier Boy grumbled. _Now, get weaving._

_All right, all right. I'm going._

Sighing, Xander gently unwrapped an arm from around Buffy's body and equally gently shook her shoulder. "Morning, beautiful. Time to start the day, I'm afraid."

********

Buffy's eyes popped open with an almost audible 'click'. Less than a foot away was Xander's face, wearing an expression that could only be described as...

Loving, Buffy realised. Bed-head, morning breath and other similar ailments - _none_ of that mattered to Xander, she understood, and the thought that someone could love her that unconditionally was reassuring. After the Angelus debacle, she'd begun to worry that disaster lurked in the background every time she dared to love someone. Intellectually, she knew different, but it was a completely different story emotionally.

After she'd come back from her... unscheduled vacation in Los Angeles - she felt a brief stab of guilt when she recalled the fear she'd put her mother and her friends through, and another as she thought of how Xander and the others had been forced to do her job in her absence - she'd started to revert to her pre-Slayer personality, in an attempt to shield herself from future disaster. Xander had been the one to break through the wall she'd started to erect around herself, though. Granted, it had been when he'd threatened her when Willow had been kidnapped, and she doubted that Xander had done it intentionally, but whatever the reason, the result had been the same.

Then Angel had returned from Hell - or whatever was on the other side of Acathla - and she was still wondering why she'd tried to hide it from the others. It was a futile effort - not to mention a bad idea... at _best_ - and the reactions of the others when they found out had been a pretty good indication of that. After all, any relationship between her and Angel had been 'star-cross'd' in a way that made Romeo and Juliet seem like a normal couple, but she'd still persisted in trying to make it work.

And then there was Faith, who'd come to Sunnydale after the death of her first Watcher, and pursued by a particularly nasty Master Vampire by the name of Kakistos, who'd been dealt with fairly quickly. The puzzling thing, however, had been the way both she and Willow had reacted to the younger Slayer. Why had they taken such a dislike to her? A dislike that had gotten worse, she realised, when Xander had started to try to bring Faith into the group, and had peaked when they'd found out that he'd slept with Faith.

But that was something she was going to have to discuss with Willow, she decided. Apart from anything else, it was too early in the morning for such deep thoughts, not to mention the fact that she was getting... distracted.

Xander had obviously noticed the way she'd zoned out for a few seconds. "Thinking naughty thoughts about the Xan-man?" he asked with a grin.

She hadn't been of course, but the way he asked the question, combined with the grin...

"I am now," she replied with a smile best described as lascivious, which caused Xander's grin to blossom into a full-fledged smile for a moment, before becoming an expression of mock-disappointment.

"As much as I'd love to see where this line of conversation takes us, we really _do_ have to start the day," Xander said with a small sigh. "First up is weapons training, and then our trip to Los Angeles."

Buffy's expression became uncertain. "I'm not so sure about that, Xan," she said softly. "I've never liked guns, but I suppose it can't hurt to learn how to use them."

"That's the spirit, Buff," Xander said gently, ducking in for a quick kiss. "And at least you'll treat them with the right amount of respect," he added, glancing over he shoulder at the alarm clock on the bedside table and sighing again. "But as much as I'd love to just stay here all day, I'm afraid that's not an option."

It was an attitude that Buffy shared in full, since she felt warm... _safe_ in Xander's arms. But he was right - it really _was_ time to face the world.

_Damn it._

********

A quick shower later - the thought of sharing that shower had been tempting, but they'd managed to resist somehow - they wandered into the kitchen to grab some breakfast, where they encountered their first surprise of the day.

Allan Deniston was sitting at the table, sipping on a cup of coffee and chatting idly with Joyce. "Morning, Allan," Xander said cheerfully.

"Morning, Xander," Allan replied without turning around.

"So, what brings you by?" Buffy asked, equally cheerfully.

"I'm the poor, benighted soul to has to teach you how to use a weapon without shooting yourself in the foot," he replied, turning around... and seeing that they were holding hands. His face went blank for a moment, and then a broad grin split his features. "Excellent!" he exclaimed. "I'll be sure to collect my share of the winnings sometime today."

Xander groaned in dismay. "Don't tell me _you_ were involved in the betting pool as well," he semi-pleaded.

"Only as of yesterday afternoon," he assured Xander - _Which, come to think of it, isn't all_ that _reassuring_, Xander thought - as Joyce chuckled lightly.

"Don't tell me you were involved as well, Mom," Buffy said pleadingly to Joyce.

"Of course not," Joyce replied.

"Why doesn't that make me feel much better?" Buffy asked Xander.

"I don't know, but if it's any consolation, that doesn't make _me_ feel much better, either," Xander replied.

********

Three-quarters of an hour later, along with Oz, Willow and Faith, they found themselves in one of the areas that had been set aside as training areas for the troops involved in Operation Stoker. As they piled out of the Humvee that Allan had used for transport, the Scoobies' eyes were drawn to-

-the five groundsheets, each with a MP-5PDW and a single empty magazine resting on them.

Allan saw the direction of their looks, and nodded solemnly. "Yep, today's the day we start you with weapons, and may God have mercy on our souls," he said gravely, grinning at the chuckles his comment elicited, before slipping into instructor mode.

"If you'll take your places - one to a weapon," he continued, "we can begin."

Buffy and Xander picked the two at one end, and Oz and Willow took the other end, leaving the one in the middle for Faith. The unspoken message was clear. _You're part of the group, Faith, and we'll_ treat _you like part of the group._ Once that had been sorted out, Allan said. "Now, I've personally checked and cleared every single one of these weapons, and the first thing we're going to cover is- Xander, what the *hell* do you think you're..."

His voice trailed off as he saw Xander start to carry out a full safety check on the weapon he'd just picked up.

********

_Bloody Americans_, Soldier Boy grumbled inside Xander's head. _Think you're God's gift to special operations._

_Hey, we're not_ that _bad_, Xander replied, to which Soldier Boy - Xander hoped the request to Hereford for further information would come through soon - simply maintained a pointed silence. _Yeah, yeah, all right_, Xander conceded. _Now can you talk me through the procedure before Allan decides to tackle me or something?_

_It's not that I don't trust Allan's competence_, Soldier Boy explained again, _but I prefer to check any weapon I'm going to handle myself - even if only by proxy. First up, check that the magazine is empty, which should only take a glance... good, that's it_, he continued as Xander followed his instructions. _Now, make sure the weapon isn't pointed at anyone, tilt the weapons so that the ejection port is facing the ground and move the cocking handle to the rear and open position_.

The breech locked open with a soft _klack_ noise. _Tilt the weapon the other way to inspect the breech... good. And finally, place the butt to your shoulder with the muzzle pointed towards the ground and the weapon parallel to the ground, and wait for Allan to declare the weapon clear_, he concluded. If he sounded slightly smug... well, the bemused expression on Allan's face gave him the right. _That was well done, by the way_, he added. _I've known soldiers who have completed their recruit training, and who should know how to do this, not do as well_.

_Thanks_, Xander replied with genuine gratitude.

Allan blinked a couple of times, before remembering what he was supposed to do next. Making sure not to step in front of Xander, he gave the breech of the weapon a quick inspection, pronouncing it clear and watching as Xander closed the breech and dry-fired the action. Shaking his head, he said, "I should really stop being surprised by anything you do, Xander. Let me guess - Soldier Boy, right?"

Xander nodded. "That's right," he replied.

Shaking his head again, Allan continued with the rest of the lesson.

********

**_Small-arms Range, Miramar NAS_**

The lessons had continued without let-up for the rest of the morning, and had been focused entirely on the practical aspects of weapons training. As Allan had put it during the lunch break, "You don't really need to know the cyclic rate of fire, or the muzzle velocity of one of these things. You just need to know that if you pull the trigger, it goes bang and a bullet comes out. And what to do if it doesn't go bang when you pull the trigger. If you _really_ want to know all of that other stuff, I can go through it with you later."

Not that there hadn't been enough practical to fill the time, anyway. Degrees of weapon readiness, stoppages and immediate actions, stripping and cleaning... and if the pace seemed slightly forced, they knew the reason why.

That night, the Scooby Gang would resume active operations for the first time since Graduation.

One interesting aspect had been the varying rates that each Scooby had absorbed the lessons being imparted. Xander had been the quickest, almost as if he was simply being reminded of something he'd forgotten - which was true, in a way. In fact he'd been so quick that he was able to devote a fair amount of time to coaching Buffy, and Allan had been slightly tempted to challenge him to a race to see who could strip and reassemble an MP-5 the quickest. It had been a niggling worry that Xander would prove to be the quickest that had stopped him in the end.

Instead, he'd decided to leave Xander pretty much to his own devices and concentrate his efforts on the other three. Oz was picking up the lessons pretty well, and Allan was confident in his abilities to handle the weapon. It had been Willow and Faith who had ended up having the most difficulties.

Willow, because of her dislike of weapons, although she was starting to overcome that dislike. Xander and Allan had discussed that during one of the brief breaks between lessons, and Xander had said, "To be honest, I can't really see Willow being a shooter unless things go wrong - but it'll still be better if she knows how to use a weapon in the first place, though. I think she'll be more involved in the technical side of things."

Faith's difficulties had sprung from the fact that she had killed three people - one accidentally, two not - and she was now being asked to pick up a weapon that had been expressly _designed_ to kill yet more people. Both Xander and Allan had resolved to keep an eye on her, with the intent of trying to keep her out of situations where she wouldn't have to point a loaded weapon at a human or worse, fire on a human. But they knew that managing that would be difficult at best, given the recent atrocity in Chicago.

But both young women had gradually overcome their difficulties and MP-5 training had given way to pistol training - the standard sidearm of the American military, the Beretta 9mm - and once again, Xander had cleared his own weapon, and done well enough to spend at least as much time as coaching Buffy as training himself.

It was the middle of the afternoon now, and the training had moved on to marksmanship training. Xander glanced at the screen next to him which reported the fall of shot - his last shot had been in the nine-ring, slightly low - and he made a minute adjustment in his position before taking a deep breath, letting half of it out and squee-eezing the trigger.

_CRACK!_

Xander took another glance at the screen and grinned slightly. _X-ring!_ he exulted silently.

_You're a pretty good shot, lad_, Soldier Boy complimented. _But it'll be a different matter on the two-way range._

Xander didn't have to ask what was meant. He knew instinctively that 'the two-way range' referred to a situation where the 'targets' were shooting back at him.

Roy Webber, who was acting as Xander's shooting coach, nodded approval. "Pretty good shooting," he commented, unknowingly echoing Soldier Boy's comment. "You'd definitely qualify with a Marksman rating, and you might even end up pretty close to Master," he added.

"How are the others doing?" Xander asked while waiting for the target to pop up again.

"Fairly well, on average. Buffy's actually doing slightly better than you, and Oz's score is only slightly lower. Once Willow was convinced that the weapon wouldn't bite her, her scores started to pick up, but Faith..." Roy shook his head slightly. "She's still jittery, even though her shooting isn't all that bad. If she gets over her worries, Allan'll have to worry about his 'best shot' title."

At that moment, the target popped up again, and Xander squeezed off another shot. "Ten-ring, eight o'clock," Roy announced.

"Well, it's not all that hard to see why Faith'd be a little jittery with weapons," Xander replied, and fell silent for the next three shots, all three of which were in the X-ring, which caused Roy to raise a somewhat surprised eyebrow as Xander removed the now-empty magazine, replaced it with the second full one, and stretched slightly before resuming his firing position.

"Two eighty-eight out of a possible three hundred so far," Roy commented, before raising his voice. "Hey, Allan! How's your score?" he called out.

Allan was taking the chance to get in some shooting himself, as the small-arms range had its own Range Master, which was a position determined by roster. "Two ninety-four," he called back. "Why?"

"Oh, Xander's only six points behind, that's all," Roy replied.

"Buffy's doing somewhat better," Jack Henderson, who was coaching Buffy contributed. "Two ninety-one."

  
"Bloody hell!" Allan exclaimed, surprised. 

********

As they were cleaning the weapons prior to returning them to the armoury - albeit temporarily - the final scores were a subject of discussion. Oz, Willow and Faith had all obtained the scores required to qualify with both the MP-5 and Beretta, but Xander and Buffy had been the standouts. With the sub-machinegun, both had finished with a score of five eighty-five, compared to Allan's five-ninety. With the pistol, Buffy had slightly edged out Xander, scoring two ninety-one compared to two eighty-seven. Allan had shot two ninety-five.

After the last weapons were slotted into their racks, Allan asked Xander, "What weapons load-out are you taking tonight?"

Xander thought for a moment before replying. "MP-5s for myself and Buffy with five mags each." At Allan's slightly raised eyebrow, he shrugged and added. "Yeah, I know it sounds a bit much, but we can return ammunition we don't end up using. If we run out, it's an entirely different story. Apart from that, it'll be pistols, stakes, holy water and crosses all around."

"Good choice, Xander."

********

**_Caritas, Los Angeles_**

After a short helicopter ride and a surprisingly short drive, they Scoobies and Allan's team stood in what was, for all intents and purposes, an empty parking lot. "Are you sure we're in the right place?" Allan asked adjusting his jacket so it covered the MP-5 slung under his right armpit better.

"This is where we were told it would be," Xander replied, a little uncertainly.

"Is it just me," Oz said suddenly, "or is anyone else feeling disinclined to proceed?"

Realisation dawned on all present. "Hey, Willow -" Xander started.

"On it, Xander," Willow cut him off, pulling a Palm Pilot from a pocket and turning the hand-held computer on. Both Xander and Willow had been issued with the devices, loaded with custom-designed programs and memory cards stuffed full of information. Where Willow's held information regarding various types of magic, Xander's information was more along the lines of the various types of demon they were likely to encounter and their weaknesses. Of course, Xander being Xander, he'd manage to cram one memory card full of MP3s.

After a few seconds, Willow looked up from the screen. "Aversion spell," she announced. "Unless we're _certain_ that the place exists, we get gently steered away from whatever the spell's protecting. Basically, a non-violent defensive spell. Camouflage, if you will."

"I guess that confirms the information that says the place is a hangout for non-violent demons, then," Faith commented.

"Not necessarily," Xander replied. "They could just be really interested in hiding. There's only one way to find out for sure, I guess." With that, he took Buffy's hand and stepped forward. The others followed close behind.

********

Lorne glanced towards the door when he heard the approach of newcomers. In fact, he was glad to be distracted from the Chaos demon's singing, as it was pretty awful, and even the destiny that was being revealed was merely a variation on a theme he heard at least a dozen times a day.

There were eleven of them, all human - not vampire; Lorne could tell the difference - and five of them were wincing at the butchering of 'Candle in the Wind' that the Chaos demon was perpetrating. The other six looked around, their expressions confused and amazed. Come to think of it, the five who were wincing were looking somewhat astonished themselves.

Newcomers, then. Lorne headed towards the door, carrying out his role as the Host. As he approached the group, though, some of the faces became recognisable... and recognised. The group included the four young people who'd fought so bravely at the Sunnydale Massacre, seeing all their friends and family die in the process. The brown-haired young woman was unfamiliar to him, but he could tell that she was a Slayer.

The other six, however... now that he was closer, he could identify them as soldiers - and he had a suspicion that he knew what _kind_ of soldier they were.

Pale Riders, bringing death to every demon they encountered. Great. As if he didn't have _enough_ to worry about with the human-supremacist hate groups running around loose, now his little hideout had been discovered. Although there were spells in place to prevent acts of violence on the premises, they wouldn't be much good against an attack from the _outside_, carried out by people who never set foot in the door.

Oh well, there wasn't much he could do about it if they had hostile intentions. Best to meet them, and see what happens from there.

********

"Greetings and welcome to Caritas, where you can find out what destiny has in store for you! I'm the Host. My name is Krevlorneswath, but since most people seem to find that too much of a handful, you can call me Lorne."

Xander was put a little off his stride by the exuberance of the greeting, but he suspected that was to conceal nervousness. After all, he _was_ the owner of a demon bar that had just seen a demon-hunting team enter the premises. It'd be only natural for him to be nervous. "Hi, Lorne," Xander replied, a little off-balance. Introductions were quickly sorted out after that, and before too long, tables had been claimed, with Lorne, the Scoobies, Allan and Roy at one table, while the other members of Allan's team paired off and took two more tables, which allowed them to keep an eye on the rest of the club.

It wasn't that they were expecting trouble, but being prepared for trouble anyway meant that if the worst _did_ happen, they wouldn't waste precious seconds figuring out what to do. Besides, it was standard procedure.

"So, what brings you to my humble abode?" Lorne asked, as a waitress brought drinks over.

"Curiosity, mainly," Buffy replied. "We heard about this place, and decided to check it out."

"Mainly because the information we had suggested that the demons who hung out here were non-violent types," Willow put in. "If the rumours we heard were true, it'd be worth the effort to identify the non-violent types. There's enough trouble to go around in the first place without adding to it."

Lorne nodded. He could understand that viewpoint, and agree with it. Now, if he could pass that information on to his customers... but how would the soldiers react? He glanced at Allan, then Roy, and then Xander. All three were wearing near-identical half-smirks, which meant...

_They know_ exactly _what I plan to do with this information_, Lorne realised. _And they agree_. Well, he supposed that made sense, since it'd let them cut down on the amount of work they had to do, plus it reduced the risk of inadvertently bringing a species that had previously wanted to be left alone into the fight - and not on their side, either.

"Plus I'm sure you're in a position to hear lots of good information," Xander added, cutting into Lorne's thoughts.

"I won't tell of the details of any destinies that are revealed to me," Lorne protested. "In fact, I'm hesitant about telling the person whose destiny it is, especially if it's not overly good."

"Fair enough," Xander said. "In fact, if you were willing to do that, I'd be suspicious. If you hear of anything nasty being plotted, though, would you pass that on?"

Lorne thought about that for a moment. "Sure," he agreed. "I can do that. There's one thing I want you to do for me, however."

"What's that?" Buffy asked, slightly suspicious.

"Nothing onerous, I promise," Lorne said. "How do you think I find out about peoples' destinies?" His answer was a round of shrugs, and he hiked a thumb in the direction of the stage, which the Chaos demon had - finally - left. "Singing, that's how." The expressions on the other faces at the table were a sight to behold as a thought occurred to them, which caused Lorne to smile broadly.

"If you could sing for me, I'd regard it as a great favour," Lorne concluded. "Besides, knowing even a little about your destinies might come in handy."

********

**_Elsewhere in Los Angeles_**

In one of the large warehouses in the port district - currently unused - people were gathering, people from all walks of life, with but one thing in common - faith.

These were people who believed - _knew_ - that Satan's servants walked the earth, in the form of the demonic, trying to ensnare human souls for their master, covertly and from the shadows. But they were in the open now, and it was now the duty of God's faithful to oppose them wherever they were. The governments of man might decry their works, calling them 'vigilantes' or 'terrorists', but they were doing the work of the righteous, and if any innocents lost their lives, they would be welcomed as martyrs into God's Kingdom.

And it was possible that Satan had set his snares for the government agents, subtly and with great care, without the victims realising it. They might believe they served a righteous cause, while in reality, they might be unknowingly serving a darker purpose. So it fell to them to rescue any such unwilling dupes from the peril they were in.

Tonight, however, they would strike a fearsome blow against their enemies. A nest of demons had been located within the city, and it was their duty to expunge such foulness from the face of the earth. As weapons and improvised explosive devices - Molotov Cocktails - were passed around, a handful of priests also circulating, bestowing blessings and calling upon God to grant them success.

The Second Inquisition, as they called themselves, was about to carry out its first mission.

********

**_Caritas_**

Somewhat reluctantly, the Scoobies had agreed to sing for Lorne, almost as much because they weren't overly confident about their singing abilities as any nervousness about having their destinies revealed to them. There was also the concern as to what Lorne would do with the information he obtained, despite his assurances on the subject. It wasn't that they didn't trust him, more that they didn't know him.

In the end, the Scoobies decided to take a chance and sing. The method they used to decide the order was pretty interesting - or so Lorne thought, anyway, being a combination of coin-tosses and rock-paper-scissors. Faith was the lucky - or unlucky, depending on the point of view - winner, having to go first. After a quick perusal of the available songs, she made her selection, stepped up onto the stage with her body language betraying her slight nervousness, and began to sing in a slightly husky contralto.

_"When I was young I knew everything  
"And she a punk who rarely took advice  
"Now I'm guilt-stricken, sobbing with my head on the floor..."_

Lorne, sitting in his usual position near the bar, was nearly overwhelmed by the force of the emotions unleashed by the performance. Apart from the destiny of the singer, he also got a glimpse of their state of mind. From Faith, he got:

_guilt... i killed people... i nearly killed them all - xander with my own hands - yet they're being nothing but friends to me... do i deserve the second chance? what if i screw up again? what will happen then?_

Lorne decided that he needed a drink, and quick. If the others' emotional states were anything like Faith's, this was going to be painful.

********

**_Warehouse, Port District_**

With preparations complete, the members of the Second Inquisition began to move towards their waiting vehicles. The source of the information that revealed the location of the demon nest - the name alone, 'Caritas', was an affront to their sensibilities - was an anonymous tip-off, which had caused some dissent. Some of the members had argued against carrying out the mission, given that, saying, "We should take note of the mistakes made by the first Inquisitors. Our targets are the demonic and their servants, and our efforts should be directed against those and those alone. If we receive information of this kind, we should investigate carefully, as we run the risk of becoming like those which we hunt. Nor will we indulge in the sort of wanton indiscriminate slaughter the so-called 'Defenders of Humanity' seem to revel in. Let them be the sledgehammer; we will be the scalpel."

In the end, a compromise had been worked out. Two volunteers would be sent to investigate the rumour, and if it turned out to be false, then no action would be taken. If the rumour turned out to be true, however...

As it eventuated, the rumour _had_ turned out to be true, and the Second Inquisition was set into motion, trusting in God and the weapons in their possession to see them to victory.

********

**_Caritas_**

Oz and Willow had had their turn on stage, and now it was Buffy's turn. Understandably, she was fairly nervous about the fact that she was going to sing to an audience. "I'm not sure I can do this, Xan," she confessed to Xander.

"Sure you can, Buff," he replied, giving her a quick kiss. "You don't want Faith to be able to say that she was braver than you now, do you?" he added with a crooked grin.

"Trying to manipulate my emotions like that will not work, Alexander Harris," she replied mock-sternly, which elicited an equally-fake begging-for-forgiveness response from Xander. "I'm not what you'd call confident about my singing ability, though," she added with a small sigh.

"Don't worry about it. In fact, I'm probably more nervous than you," Xander said. At Buffy's quirked eyebrow, he added, "Because I'm going last... and I still haven't decided on what I'm going to sing.

"And as for your worries about your singing ability, or any possible lack of, don't worry about that, either. I'm sure you'll sound fine," he reassured her.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, giving him a kiss in turn and heading towards the stage.

"How long do you think they're going to carry on like this?" he heard Faith ask Willow from behind him.

"Days. Weeks. Months, even," Willow replied in a tone of voice that made Xander _certain_ that she was either making a face at his back or rolling her eyes. "They're in _lurve_," she added, her voice dripping with fake sugar, causing Faith to chuckle lightly, and Oz to grin suddenly. That much he knew without turning around.

Then Buffy started to sing, and suddenly Xander's complete and undivided attention was riveted on the stage. It was true that she'd probably never win a big-time recording contract, but that didn't matter. In fact, the imperfections in Buffy's singing voice seemed to make the performance more _real_, unlike the professionally edited productions of the record labels.

These musings took him through the first verse of Buffy's chosen song, and he surfaced just in time to hear...

_"But I see your true colours  
"Shining through  
"I see your true colours  
"And that's why I love you  
"So don't be afraid to let them show  
"Your true colours  
"True colours are beautiful,  
"Like a rainbow"_

Lorne tossed back the remnants of his drink and poured another with a hand that trembled slightly, although from the emotions he'd picked up rather than the alcohol. Throughout most of the song, she'd been staring squarely at Xander, singing her heart out to him, and even without his ability to pick up on destinies and emotional states, he knew that Buffy loved the young man with all her heart. The emotional overtones just made it about as obvious as a hammer-blow to the head, along the lines of:

_**LOVE**... he's always helped me, even when i tried to turn him away... why didn't i notice him sooner... would have saved a lot of pain and heartache... will he get hurt like everyone else i've loved? i've failed as a slayer once already... never again!_

The overtones of guilt at the end confused Lorne for a moment, before he remembered the Graduation Massacre, and something went 'click' in his mind. Slayers were driven by their duty to help people, and a failure on a scale that massive had to be eating at her, something that was merely underscored by the fact that she was still feeling that guilt to such an extent almost three months later.

********

**_Approaching Caritas_**

The vehicles of the Second Inquisition had reached the small area of open ground where they would split into their groups and encircle the demon nest, so that none of the inhabitants would escape their fates.

They would be consumed in the holy fires.

********

**_Caritas_**

It was Xander's turn to sing now, and the butterflies in his stomach seemed to have multiplied to the numbers more commonly associated with the concept of a swarm of locusts, despite Buffy's reassuring words and kiss. Then again, saying something like, "I survived, and so will you," wasn't really all _that_ reassuring, come to think of it, and he knew _exactly_ how bad his singing was. He'd heard himself, after all. And there was still the small problem of which song to sing, but that resolved itself when a choice practically leapt out at him from the list, alternately waving and hitting him around the head and neck with a sign that said 'Pick Me!'

_What are you worried about?_ Soldier Boy muttered dryly. We're _the ones who have to endure the noise you call singing._

_Thanks for the words of support_, Xander replied, equally sarcastic. _What do you do for an encore, cut my head off?_

_'Tis a far better thing that I do,' and all that. It'd be a small price to pay for peace and quiet._

_Smart-ass._

_You'd be astonished to find out how little that wounds me. Now get up and sing._

_Yes, O Captain, my Captain._

After taking a deep breath, and glancing to where his friends were sitting - Buffy blew him a kiss, Willow smiled, Oz nodded, and while Faith looked deeply uninterested, he could tell that she was wishing him luck - he launched into his chosen song. Within seconds, it was obvious that he was aiming it at one person in particular.

_"And I'd give up forever to touch you  
"'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
"And I don't want to go home right now  
"And all I can taste is this moment  
"And all I can breathe is your life  
"'Cause sooner or later it's over  
"I just don't want to miss you tonight."_

Lorne stared at the young man, his eyes wide with amazement. He'd _never_ encountered a mix of emotions like this before, especially combined with the destiny his singing revealed. Xander had also spent most of the song staring at one person, his love for Buffy as obvious as a magnesium flare in a darkened room, being broadcast for all who knew how to look for such things.

_**LOVE**... oh god, she's beautiful... why would she ever-... okay, shutting up now... i'd fight anything to protect her, not that she needs it, though... **guilt**... graduation was my plan, and it went wrong... my fault..._

There was a strange duality to the emotions, sort-of as if there was another personality sharing the young man's body, acting to reinforce the positive and trying to damp down the negative aspects of Xander's personality.

The song ended, and Xander returned to the group, taking a couple of mock-bows at the scattered applause which had greeted his performance. Placing his drink to one side, he made his way over to the table to give them the news.

********

**_Outside Caritas_**

All avenues of escape were now blocked - that they knew of, the leader of the Second Inquisition told himself sternly - and final preparations were now under way. Soon, the servants of Satan would learn that there was no sanctuary for them.

********

**_Caritas_**

"So what you're trying to say is, that although we each have destinies to fulfil - and important ones, to boot - it's as a group that we'll run into our greatest problem?"

"Well, that last bit's an assumption, but yeah, that's the gist of it."

With the singing over, the Scoobies were trying to understand what Lorne was now telling them, which had prompted Willow's question and Lorne's answer. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that although your individual destinies _are_ going to be big ones - the fate of the world will hinge on decisions each of you will be forced to make - there are..." Lorne paused, trying to find a suitable word to describe to concept he was trying to get across. "Connections between you. I can't be sure of that, though."

"Is there a way that you _can_ be sure?" Buffy asked.

"Yes," Lorne replied. "You sing as a group. That should be enough to discern your destiny as a group."

"I thought you were able to tell what'd lie in store for us," Xander commented.

Lorne resisted the urge to sigh. "That's true, but what I see tends to be either extremely specific or completely general. The specific ones are like trying to describe the contents a house from a brief glimpse through a keyhole, and the general ones are similar, but from an overhead photo of a city. Seeing the future by itself isn't much help - you've got to be able to _understand_ it, and that's much harder."

"And if we sing as a group, you'll be able to get a better idea of our destiny as a group," Xander summed up.

"A better idea, yes," Lorne responded, "but not enough to describe it in detail."

"Worth a shot." Xander turned to the others. "What do you think?"

"Why not?" Oz remarked.

"If you think it's a good idea, Xan," Buffy said.

"I'm in," Willow stated.

Xander glanced over at Faith, who'd remained silent. "You in, Faith?"

"I dunno," Faith began uncertainly. "After all, it's not as if I'm really part of the group, and..."

"Bullshit!" Xander interrupted. "Whatever you were before, you're a part of the group now." Buffy and Oz nodded to back up this statement, and a fraction of a second later, Willow also nodded.

"Really?" Faith asked, wide-eyed. When the others nodded again, she smiled suddenly and hugged each of them in turn, whispering, "Thank you," as she did so.

"Now all we need to do is decide on a song," Xander remarked as they looked over the list of available songs. "It should be a song suitable for a group, and one that we can all agree on... here's one!" he added, pointing to a selection. "What do you guys think?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Xan," Buffy said, smiling.

"Ego much?" Willow said dryly, and Faith simply nodded.

"What about you, Oz?" Xander asked.

"Brian May's a good guitarist," Oz said with a shrug.

"I'll take that as a 'yes', then," Xander remarked with a grin. "Lucky us, we agreed on the first choice."

"Can we just get on with it?" Willow asked.

"If you insist, milady."

_"Here we are, born to be kings  
"We are the princes of the universe  
"Here we belong, fighting to survive  
"In a war with the darkest powers"_

The combined effects of the group destiny and the emotional content nearly blew Lorne off his chair. It was a _massive_ destiny, although not one that was due to take place soon... and that was all he could discern. It was almost as if he was being prevented from learning anything more than that, but one thing he did find out was that one more person would join their group. But who could that person be?

He was still thinking about the possibilities when the Scoobies returned to the table. Explaining what he'd managed to learn took only a few seconds, and left nobody any the wiser. "That wasn't very helpful," Faith commented.

"Probably not," Xander agreed. "But we couldn't have known that ahead of time, could we?"

Before anyone else could speak, the door-demon lumbered over to their table. He - or she, you never knew with some types of demon - was a hulking specimen, over two metres tall and heavily built, to boot. The Scoobies looked dubious, and the soldiers' hand moved to where their weapons were concealed, but Lorne made frantic gestures. "Relax, relax! Big Guy here might look intimidating, but he's really a peaceful type. He's the bouncer, and bouncers are _supposed_ to look big and nasty, so no-one gets any ideas."

"Oh," Buffy said, as the tension level went down several notches. "I guess that's a lesson in judging a book by its cover, or why not to."

Big Guy leaned down to talk to Lorne. "We got trouble, boss," he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "There's a bunch of humans headed this way from all directions. They seem to know about this place and they're armed."

Lorne put his head in his hand. "Great," he sighed. "There's not a lot we can do about it, either."

The Scoobies exchanged glances before nodding. "Maybe there's something we can do to help?" Xander offered, causing Lorne to look at him, surprised by the offer. "We did say that we only go after the actively _hostile_ demons, and no-one here fits that description, given that no-one's tried to attack us," he added before glancing at Allan and Roy. "What do you guys think?"

"I think you're right, Xander," Allan said. "Like you said, we only go after hostile types. I think we can find room in our orders to allow for a situation like this." Roy simply nodded and, getting the attention of the other soldiers, made 'gather around' gestures. Explaining the situation took only a few moments, and despite a couple of dubious looks, agreed that something should be done.

"And try not to shoot anyone," Xander put in. "Not unless you have to, anyway."

Standing just outside the door, with Buffy and Faith to either side of him, Xander was surprised by the number of people in the crowd. _Hundreds, certainly. Possibly over a thousand. This could get ugly really quick_.

_That's a possibility_, Soldier Boy suggested. _But there are ways to reduce the chances of that happening. Look confident, for starters. Display of weapons is acceptable, as long as you don't actually_ aim _them at anyone without a good reason, since that's a fairly dramatic escalation. Apart from that, well, I think you'll be able to handle it._

_Thanks._

_But keep an eye on your friends_, Soldier Boy cautioned. _Faith, in particular, is showing bad signs._

As he removed his MP-5 from underneath his jacket - noticing Buffy and the others doing the same from the corner of his eye - he glanced at Faith. Her normally healthy complexion was pale, her eyes were wide, there was a suggestion of sweat on her forehead, and she was trembling slightly. She'd also made no move to draw a weapon, and was whispering, "No... no, please, not this. I don't want to-"

_Shit. This isn't good, but I suppose it beats the alternative._

_Would it be too late to say that bringing her along might not have been the best of ideas?_ Soldier Boy commented wryly.

_Yes. Yes it would. And I was the one who suggested it, since I didn't expect anything like this to happen._

_Neither did I, but she should have said something. After all, you're the only person who really knows if you're fit for active duty._

_True, but this isn't the Regiment, and Faith was probably eager to prove herself._

_I agree, but the question of what to do now still remains._

That was a very good point. Luckily, an answer suggested itself pretty promptly, as the soldier on the other side of Faith - the same soldier she'd been talking to last night, Xander realised - kept sending worried glances Faith's way. Xander caught his eye and nodded, and the soldier nodded back, holstered his weapons, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Whirling around, Faith grabbed him in a tight hug and started sobbing. The soldier - Xander recognised him as Jim Ackens - gently led her back into the club, on the way passing Lorne who was on his way out.

"Lorne! What are you doing? This could get dangerous!" Even as Xander said this, the irony of him saying to somebody almost exactly the same sort of things that Buffy had said to him when she'd tried to keep him out of the Slaying before Graduation struck him, and he had to restrain a laugh.

"And it's not dangerous for you?" Lorne countered. "Besides, this isn't just my business - it's also my home."

"He's right, Xander," Buffy said quietly, and Xander could only agree.

Producing pen and paper from a pocket, Xander scribbled down a phone number, and handed the paper to Lorne, saying, "Ring that number, and when you get asked for an authentication code, reply with X-ray-Hotel-Zero-Four-Niner-Alpha, tell the person on the other end what's happening and ask for help. With that priority coding, help should be here in a few minutes."

Lorne accepted the paper and nodded. "Try not to get yourself killed in the meantime," he said quietly.

Xander snorted gently. "That's the last thing I plan on doing."

"True, but death is the last thing that happens to _everyone_."

Lorne turned to head back into the club, but before he could move, a loud voice called out, "See the nest of demon spawn and their dupes! Men of God, do your duty, and wipe them from the face of the earth!"

Allan sighed. "Great," he said grimly. "That's all we need: religious nuts."

"And with Molotov Cocktails, to boot," Xander agreed. "By the way, Lorne, are you 'demon spawn'?"

"That's what my mother used to call me," Lorne said cheerfully. "'My sweet little spawn,' she'd say."

"Just checking," Xander replied with a grin. "Hey Willow, does 'dupe' mean what I think it means?"

"Depends on what you think it means, Xander," Willow replied. "If you think it means something along the lines of 'stupid person,' the yes, it means what you think it means."

"Thank you for clearing that up. Oh, and am I the only one who sees the irony in us trying to stand down a mob of humans in an attempt to protect a bunch of demons?"

"No, you're not," Roy said.

"This could get ugly really quick, couldn't it?" Willow asked nervously, eyeing the crowd and the weapons that were in evidence. Pistols, rifles and shotguns mainly, backed up by fire-bombs; if the collection looked somewhat motley, they were still good enough to kill them all.

"Hopefully not, Will," Xander replied, putting as much confidence into his voice as possible. It was a testament to Willow's nervousness that he got away with it, since she knew him far too well to allow him to get away with deceptions like that. "Lorne, haven't you got a phone call to make?"

Lorne nodded and vanished back into the club. Thinking about the military forces that would soon be coming to back them up made Xander wonder where the police were. _Even if this isn't one of the better parts of LA_, Xander thought, somebody _should have called the police._

_Maybe they're also putting in a call for backup?_ Soldier Boy suggested.

_That's a possibility_, Xander agreed, but before he could add anything else, the mob - there was no other word for it - started to surge forward. In response, Xander cycled the action of his MP-5, and everyone else followed suit with their weapons. The series of harsh _klak-kack_s caused the mob to pretty much well stop dead, since not many people were too keen on charging into the teeth of loaded automatic weapons.

"Men of God, do your duty!" the voice from earlier - and probably from near the back of the crowd, Xander thought - bellowed again. "Those of you who fall carrying out your sacred task will be seated at God's right hand in His Kingdom!"

"Says the man safely at the back," Xander said, probably a little louder than he'd intended, since the closest members of the mob gave him some strange looks. An idea occurred to him and, raising his voice, he called out, "Why don't you come forward? Or are you too cowardly?"

"I am no coward, servant of evil!"

"Then prove it! Step forward and meet me face-to-face!"

There was muttering from within the mob, and before too long, a man of average height, who was slightly pudgy and with greying hair stepped past the first row of people. To say he wasn't what Xander had been expecting would be precisely accurate, but any thought of making jokes at the man's expense died when Xander saw the man's eyes.

There was fire in them; the fire of fanaticism, and the _certainty_ - not merely the knowledge - that he was doing the right thing. Xander knew there would be little chance of talking the man down, but he had to give it a try anyway. Besides, the true danger was the armed mob at his back, and hopefully, _they_ wouldn't prove to be as fanatical as their leader, and it'd be possible to talk them down. Or at least stall them until help arrived.

"What do you want, servant of evil?" the man - dressed as a priest, Xander noticed - snapped.

"I was going to ask why you're doing this, but that's pretty obvious," Xander replied, deliberately keeping his tone mild in contrast to the priest's anger.

"Your words will not sway me, servant of evil!"

"Y'know, you're starting to get pretty repetitious," Xander remarked. "How about you use my name? I'm Xander Harris, and this is my girlfriend, Buffy Summers." Xander could see that his words had some effect on some of the priest's followers - they obviously recognised the names - and decided to go the whole hog. "And these are my friends, Willow Rosenberg and Daniel Osbourne."

The priest was starting to look somewhat confused now. "B-but you fight demons," he began, and all of the confusion vanished from his expression. "Or do you now serve them?"

"Not fucking likely," Xander muttered, just loud enough for the priest to hear him.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"We heard rumours about this place and decided to check them out," Willow replied. "But we heard that this place was for the non-violent types of demon, and-"

"So this _is_ a demon nest!" the priest barked.

"Yes, but these demons don't hurt anyone!" Willow snapped in reply. Xander wondered why she'd be so quick to defend Lorne, but he came to a realisation pretty soon. _At no time did anyone in there try to attack us. In fact they looked pretty intimidated by us_.

_A little over an hour isn't really enough to form a concrete opinion on the subject_, Soldier boy noted, _but I think you're right. Now, how do we get out of this situation without shooting anybody?_

_We try to stall them until reinforcements arrive, which hopefully won't be too long._

_Not the best plan I've ever heard, but I can't think of anything better, so I think we'll go with that._

_Thank you for the vote of confidence._

"Tell me something, padre," Xander said. "How many demons have you seen with your own eyes?" The priest started to say something, but after a few seconds, hadn't come up with anything coherent. "Would I be correct in assuming that the answer is 'none', then? And the same number of vampires?" Grudgingly, the priest nodded. "Well, not meaning to brag or anything, but I, along with my friends, have been fighting them for three years, without any help or much in the way of weaponry. Wouldn't that give me the right to say that I might know what I'm talking about then?"

The priest's lips began to frame an angry retort, but his response died unspoken as he felt the mood of the mob shift. Turning around, he saw the same thing that Xander was beginning to see. Enough of the mob's members carried some form of torch or lantern to provide a fairly decent amount of illumination for the scene.

Some of the people were looking thoughtful, and others were turning respectful expressions towards the Scooby Gang. A few people still looked like they wanted to storm Caritas and level the place, but they were in a distinct minority. And, in the distance, but getting closer, Xander could hear the roar of powerful engines over the backdrop of normal city noises, along with a couple of sirens.

_That was quick_, Xander thought. _Surely we haven't been out here all that long?_

_About five minutes. And there's a National Guard armoury nearby_, Soldier Boy pointed out. I _actually paid attention when we looked over the maps earlier today._

Xander was about to make some sort of sarcastic reply, when two groups of half-a-dozen Humvees, each led by a black-and-white, pulled into view and soldiers began leaping from the vehicles, and moved to surround the mob. Weapons were in plain sight, but were very carefully _not_ being pointed at anyone - yet.

"Bloody hell, Xander!" a familiar English-accented voice called out. For a moment, Xander wondered when Giles had travelled to the West Coast, but it wasn't _that_ familiar English-accented voice. "Can't you go anywhere without getting into trouble?" Lieutenant Gary Wilson, of the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment, added as he stepped into the light of one of the sets of headlights now illuminating the scene. Shaking his head, he continued, "I feel sorry for poor Buffy. What's going to happen when you take her out on a date? Vampire attack?"

"Hopefully not," Xander replied, "but I wouldn't make any bets."

Gary just shook his head again in mock-sympathy. In his late twenties, and two years into a three-year posting with the SAS, Gary was well-regarded by nearly all of the soldiers under his command, who thought he was pretty much human, as opposed to some of the other officers they'd served under. Part of that was the fact that he was more than willing to share a joke under the right circumstances - like now. "It's obvious that this young hooligan doesn't have the proper amount of awe for you, Milady Summers," he said, bowing in Buffy's direction.

Buffy simply laughed and moved closer to Xander. "I don't want awe, Gary," she said. "Love will do just fine, and I _know_ I've got that."

"Curses! Foiled again in my search for love - or a reasonable facsimile thereof, at least," Gary exclaimed with enough melodrama to put even the worst ham actor to shame. Allan chuckled softly, and then coughed pointedly. "My apologies, Petty Officer, I was momentarily overcome by the radiant beauty of these lovely young ladies - where's Faith?" he added, much more seriously.

"Inside," Xander replied, equally seriously. "She had... a bad reaction earlier."

"Is she all right?"

"I don't know," Xander replied with a shrug. "Once we get this sorted out, we can check."

Gary nodded, and turned to the LAPD officer accompanying him. "I believe you have some arrests to make?"

********

The mob was taken into custody without too much trouble - the sight of automatic weapons held casually by people who looked like they knew how to use them was enough to calm any hot tempers and make those so inclined rethink the benefits or martyrdom - and the group adjourned back inside Caritas. Gary, of course, was somewhat amazed by the sights he was seeing. "This is pretty astonishing," he murmured, casting his gaze over the various types of demon, and seeing that none of them were even the slightest bit inclined to attack him. In fact, most of them looked like they were worrying about whether _he_ was going to attack _them_.

When he saw Faith, however, his attention immediately centred on her. She was sitting hunched-over at a table, her head in her hands. Judging by the way her shoulders were shaking, she was still sobbing, and Jim was sitting next to her, rubbing her back and speaking softly to her. They couldn't hear what he was saying to her, but she was obviously listening, since she would either nod or shake her head at various times. As they drew closer, Faith raised her head to see who it was, and they could see the tear-tracks running down her face. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"What for, Faith?" Xander said as everyone found seats.

"For screwing up like that," she replied. "I shouldn't have come along."

"Hey, you couldn't have known this was going to happen," Buffy said gently.

"Still..." Faith paused for a moment. "Maybe I'm... not ready for this sort of thing. I shouldn't have tried to prove that I was."

Xander didn't know what to say. He recognised that it had taken great courage for Faith to be that honest - even if he thought she was, perhaps, being a little harsh on herself - but finding words to that effect was hard. Leaning across the table, he took one of her hands in a gentle yet firm grip and said, "Faith, you're the only one who really knows what's going through your mind right now, but can I say that I'm proud of you for recognising the difficulties you were going through in time to remove yourself from a dangerous situation in which you might lose control of your responses? You made the right choice, Faith," he continued when she looked sharply in his direction, obviously surprised, "and sitting here berating yourself after the fact helps no-one."

Buffy also reached across the table and grasped Faith's other hand. "You did well out there, and don't try to tell yourself otherwise." Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Buffy continued, "Perhaps we should discuss this tomorrow over lattes and chocolate? I'd say that a request for a day off might be looked upon favourably, and if not," Buffy shrugged, "training doesn't last _all_ day."

"Count me in, too," Willow said suddenly. "It's been too long since I did something like that."

Xander knew _exactly_ what was going to happen tomorrow. "Girl talk?" he asked Oz.

"Girl talk," Oz replied with a nod.

"I guess we'll have to find other ways to occupy ourselves tomorrow, then, while we get talked about." He grinned suddenly, and glanced at Jim. "And I don't think we'll be the only ones being talked about either, Oz," he added, causing the young soldier's expression to go through several interesting changes. "Cheer up, Jim! Being talked about by women _isn't_ a fate worse than death, after all, even if some of the things they'll end up talking about might be just a _little_ bit embarrassing."


	3. Girl Talk and Other Dramas

**_Brand New World - Girl Talk and Other Dramas_**

**_Author: Robert Cox )_**

**_Rating: M-15 (Australian system) for violence, language and other fun stuff_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own diddly. That's literally, as well as in the sense of this story, so it'd be an exercise in futility to sue._**

**_Summary: As the world comes to terms with the supernatural, the US government gets involved in the vampire-slaying business._**

**_Pairings: Oz/Willow, Buffy/Xander... for real, this time!_**

**_Feedback: Please? Even if it's to tell me what I'm doing wrong..._**

**_AN: More thanks to Danyel, who once again, devoted his valuable time to beta-ing this._**

****

**_Patrol Debriefing Area, Operation STOKER  
Mirimar NAS_**

The debriefing process had become pretty standardised by now, and was run by Allan's squadron commander without any flag officers present. Apart from a few comments at various points - especially regarding the Second Inquisition - the debriefing went quickly. There was one other point of concern, though.

"Are you sure this Lorne can be trusted?"

"Hard to say for sure," Xander replied with a shrug. "He gave us no real reason to _dis_trust him, though, and it will be nice to have a source of information regarding demon and vampire activity." He smiled thinly before continuing. "After all, it's not as if we could dress someone up and send them off to infiltrate a vampire or demon group." Another brief pause, and the smile turned slightly sardonic. "Not unless it was someone we really, _really_ hated, at least."

"Xander!" Buffy exclaimed, lightly swatting him on the arm.

"Sorry, Buff," Xander apologised. "I couldn't help myself."

"Soldier Boy must really be rubbing off on you," the Commander remarked as he scanned the notes he'd taken during the debriefing.

"How so?" Xander asked.

"I've heard Brits make that sort of joke before. Their sense of humour can be a little rough at times."

"The thing that really worried me, though, sir," Allan put in, "was those 'Second Inquisition' guys, not to mention the bunch that torched that hotel in Chicago - what did they call themselves again? The 'Defenders of Humanity'? What happened last night was strange enough without having to stare down an armed mob. Yeah, I know we're not supposed to let people take the law into their own hands, but protecting a demon hang-out was... unsettling."

"You went along with it readily enough," Willow pointed out.

"Yeah, because they hadn't threatened us in any way. I understand that, but a couple of the guys in the team were a little put off by the whole thing. What if it - or something like it - happens again?"

"Honestly, Allan, I can't say," the Commander replied, just a touch wearily. "All I can do is pass it on to the J-2, and see what happens from there." The J-2 was the intelligence officer - the J coming about because Operation Stoker involved all branches of the American military, as well as international contingents - who liaised with the FBI in cases like this. "Maybe something can be worked out, but until then, if that sort of situation arises again, it'll have to be up to the discretion of the commander on the ground."

"Maybe some sort of policy should be put into place," Xander remarked.

"Why's that?" the Commander replied, curious as to what would be suggested.

"Well, some of the more... enthusiastic... teams might end up standing aside for the fanatics, or worse, start passing information on to them. We really need information on what's being plotted in advance to be properly effective. After all, we operated pretty much on a day-to-day basis for three years, and we ended up relying on luck more often than was healthy for us."

"And places like 'Caritas' would be the source of any information along those lines."

"Sure, but not if word gets around that we're being indiscriminate about who we go after. I think what happened last night proved that there are demons who _don't_ want to plot world domination, and I get the feeling that we're going to be stretched thin as it is without picking more fights."

"I'll pass that one up the chain as well," the Commander promised, before asking a question that had been lurking at the back of his brain throughout the debriefing. "What happened with Faith? You mentioned some sort of emotional breakdown just before the stand-off with the 'Second Inquisition' fanatics."

"That pretty much sums it up," Xander replied. "At the moment, she's at home, talking to Joyce and Jim about it, and hopefully, she'll come through it all right. Speaking of," he continued, turning to Buffy, "don't you have a request to make?"

"Oh, thank you very much," Buffy replied, just a shade archly.

"Hey, it was your idea in the first place," Xander said, just a touch defensively. "I don't want to take the credit for it."

"Or the blame," Buffy returned, to which Xander could only shrug. With a small sigh, she turned to the Commander. "Do you think we could take today off so we can talk to Faith about what happened last night?" she asked. "Apart from anything else, she probably really needs to know that she doesn't have to go through this alone."

The Commander flicked a brief inquiring glance to where Allan and Roy were sitting, which Xander noticed, even if Buffy, Willow and Oz missed it. _Smart lad_, Soldier Boy pointed out. _A good officer gets input from his senior NCOs before making a decision_.

_I would have thought that the officers simply gave orders, and everyone else - well everyone ranked lower than them, anyway - had to obey._

_That's true_, Soldier Boy replied. _But it's a pretty foolish officer who ignores the experience of the senior NCOs_. He paused before continuing, and his tone was maliciously gleeful. _And said senior NCOs know any number of tricks to make life... difficult... for an officer who continually makes an idiot of himself._

_How do you -? No, I don't want to know._

_Smart lad_, Soldier Boy repeated, this time paying the compliment to Xander. _You'd have made a pretty good officer yourself._

_Thanks... I think._

That exchange had only taken part of Xander's attention, so he was able to spot the almost microscopic nods that both Allan and Roy gave in reply. "I don't see why not," the Commander said. "In fact, strictly speaking, Allan's team are on stand-down right now. The only reason they were sent out with you is that they were the most experienced team we have who weren't already deployed in the field."

"Yeah, but that doesn't include _us_," Xander pointed out.

The Commander shrugged. "That's true," he replied, "but after last night, you could probably do with some down-time. Don't get used to it though; it's not going to happen too often," he cautioned.

"I understand," Xander replied. "On a sorta-related topic, though; how long will it be before we return to regular patrols?"

"Probably as soon as you train up to standard," the Commander replied. "And if the results from yesterday are anything to go by, your shooting and unarmed combat are almost there. It'll probably be just a matter of getting your physical fitness up to that point."

The reactions of the Scoobies were a mixed lot. Buffy shrugged, Willow groaned, the corner of Oz's mouth might have twitched, and Xander winced. _You want to play with the best_, Soldier Boy reminded him. _So, it shouldn't come as a surprise that they want you to be able to keep up with them_.

"Don't worry," the Commander continued, "we won't throw you in at the deep end, but there will be a PT program that'll bring you up to the required standard in fairly short order."

"But we managed for three years," Xander pointed out, not really expecting much in the way of results.

"This will make it easier," the Commander replied.

Xander shrugged. "Wasn't really complaining," he said. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow. Don't worry, like I said, to start off with, the training will be pretty light."

Somehow, Xander refrained from pointing out that what a Special Forces unit might consider 'light' might be considered something else entirely by people who _weren't_ Special Forces.

****

"Not looking forward to tomorrow," Willow mumbled as they left the room.

"Don't worry, Willow," Allan said with a small grin. "I'll have a word with the PTIs and get them to tone down their sadistic impulses."

"Thanks, I - hey!" Willow said indignantly, causing everyone else to chuckle lightly. She turned an '_et tu?_' look towards Oz, who was chuckling as well. "You're supposed to back me up here," she mock-threatened him.

"Sorry," he replied, giving her a quick kiss.

"Just don't let it happen again, mister," she said with a grin.

"Now if you boys will excuse us," Buffy interrupted, giving Xander a quick kiss before grabbing Willow's arm. "We girls have some serious talking to do, and you're _not_ invited. Just try to stay out of trouble."

"Yes, dear," Xander replied. Buffy's face lit up at the casual endearment.

As Buffy and Willow headed back to the house - probably with a stop-off to buy some ice-cream or chocolate along the way - Oz raised an eyebrow and asked, "What now?"

"While they're having their 'girl talk', I don't see why we can't devote some time to guy talk," Xander replied with a shrug. "What do you think?" he added to Allan and Roy.

"I can't see any reason why not," Allan replied, while Roy shrugged and nodded. "Besides, there are some things we want to ask you about."

****

**_Slayerette House_**

As Xander suspected, when Buffy and Willow returned to the house, they were laden down with bags from the Post Exchange - basically, a shopping mall on the base - containing both chocolate _and_ ice cream. "We're _never_ going to be able to eat all of this, especially given that we're starting physical training tomorrow," Willow was protesting.

"We're not even going to try," Buffy replied. "Consider this stocking up for future demand."

"Oh, since you put it like that..."

By this time, they had reached the kitchen, where Faith, Joyce and Jim were sitting around the table, sipping hot drinks of their choice while they talked. "Hi Buffy, Willow," Joyce said, looking up to see who it was. "You're back early."

"Day off," Buffy replied in explanation as she and Willow loaded their purchases into the fridge, except for a few blocks of chocolate, which they placed in the centre of the table. "And besides, we promised Faith last night that we'd talk to her, so here we are."

"You don't have to do this," Faith mumbled, her expression drawn as a result of the almost complete lack of sleep she'd gotten the previous night, which had caused Joyce to insist that she stay at home and suggest a talk with Jim. Faith hadn't so much agreed to both proposals, as hadn't really had the strength to argue against them. Apart from anything else, Joyce had been in full 'Mom Mode', which would have rendered any argument futile before it even started.

"Don't have to - _want_ to," Buffy replied firmly. "Subtle but important difference there."

The tone of her voice caused Faith to look up sharply, but whatever she'd been about to say was forestalled by the determined look on Buffy's face. Willow, too, was wearing a similar expression. "What she said," Willow added. "Resolve Face, see?"

A ghost of a smile appeared on Faith's face. "I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?" she asked.

"Not at all," Buffy replied as she and Willow took seats on either side of Faith.

****

**_Senior NCO's Mess_**

With the NCO's Club closed, the four men decided to adjourn to the mess. After securing coffees for themselves, they claimed a table and got down to the serious business at hand.

"So," Roy began. "Any idea why Faith reacted the way she did last night?"

"Yeah," Xander replied with a nod. "A question first, though; Allan told me that there'd been a fair amount of detail in the pre-mission briefing. Did that include the events of a few months back?"

"Sure," Roy replied. "If I'm remembering it right, Faith accidentally killed someone, and ended up working for Wilkins for a while, killing two more people in the process, before - oh, right."

"What I want to know is _why_ she started working for the other side; not to mention why you're so keen on working with her again," Allan put it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Xander asked, his tone level, but there was a hint of hurt lurking in there somewhere.

"Well, didn't she try to kill you all? You especially, Xander. Some people might have difficulties trusting someone after something like that."

"Well, I won't deny that I might have a few Faith-shaped issues," Xander replied, a little grudgingly, while one had absently rubbed his throat. "But you now how they say on the TV cop shows when they're offering parole to some criminal, they say things like 'rehabilitated', and 'no longer a danger to society'? That's the sort of chance we're offering Faith."

"I won't deny that that might be a good idea," Allan said, "but those people have usually served time in jail first."

"Faith has," Oz put in suddenly. "Except it's a jail of her own making, which is probably harsher than any other type, and doesn't offer the chance of parole."

Both Allan and Roy nodded to acknowledge the point. "But that doesn't answer the question of why she started working for Wilkins in the first place," Roy pointed out.

"True; it doesn't," Xander replied. "But before I get to that, I'm going to have to go into some background, so bear with me." He paused to drink some of his coffee before continuing. "I've known three Slayers, and they've all been completely different people - which shouldn't come as too much of a surprise, really. Buffy's always tried to mix being the Slayer with her regular life - well, before Graduation, at least - Kendra was a lot more disciplined, and Faith... well, she sort of defies explanation. I don't know all of the details, but before she became a Slayer, Faith's life could best be described as 'awful'. So when she arrives in Sunnydale, and after Kakistos was taken care of, she sees that Buffy's got pretty much everything going her way - good friends, a good home and a mother who cares. It was pretty much inevitable that she's going to be at least a little jealous.

"It didn't help matters too much when she was simply dumped into the worst motel in Sunnydale. We didn't know at first, but I... found out later, and did _nothing_."

"There wasn't a lot you could have done," Oz pointed out.

"Maybe," Xander admitted. "But I can't help but feel that I should have tried. Maybe Giles had a spare room, or something. So, anyway, there's a fair bit of friction, and then the whole debacle that was the death of Allan Finch, which Faith tried to blame Buffy for. I gotta admit that there's a bit of justification in that; after all, she _did_ throw him to Faith."

Allan raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you'd say something like that."

"I love Buffy, yes, but you've got to remember that being a Slayer doesn't magically make her right every time. She's still a person - granted, one with a few upgrades, but still a person - and people make mistakes. It's how they deal with them afterwards that's really important. I hate to say it, but Faith didn't deal all to well, although I must admit that our attitudes didn't help much."

"What do you mean?" Roy asked, intrigued.

"Well, Buffy was all in favour of turning Faith over to the police - an idea not without its merits, I must admit - Willow was going along with Buffy, and Oz, Giles and me didn't really say anything one way or another. So things eventually got to the point where Faith ended up working for Wilkins. One night, I tried to talk to her, see if there was anything I could do to help. Unfortunately, it didn't work out too well, and... well, let's just say Angel saved my life that night and leave it like that."

"Do you have any idea of why she ended up trying to kill you?" Allan asked.

"Hey, what is this - Good Cop, Bad Cop?" Xander asked with a wry grin before continuing. "No, not really. But if I had to guess - and this is _only_ a guess, mind you - I'd say it was because Faith was under a _lot_ of stress, and there I was, confronting her over it, trying to get her to talk about it. I guess she just... snapped. I guess the best way to describe it would be to say the whole situation was a flamingo-up."

"Flamingo-up?"

"'It's like a cock-up - only much, much bigger'," Oz replied. "'Parallel Universe', Red Dwarf."

"That makes sense," Allan replied with a light chuckle.

"I wonder what the girls are talking about?" Roy wondered.

****

**_Slayerette House_**

"So, why _did_ you try to strangle Xander?" Buffy asked bluntly. So far, the talk had gone reasonably well, even if Faith had been somewhat evasive about her life prior to being Called as a Slayer. Both Buffy and Willow had been curious about that, but Joyce and Jim both backed her up on that, which quashed any thoughts of pestering her until she cracked. That question was of some importance to Buffy and Willow, which made sense, since one was his girlfriend, and the other had been one of his best friends since kindergarten.

"I- I don't really know," Faith replied hesitantly. "I was at a low point at that time, when Xander came to me. First, I thought he simply wanted another roll in the hay," she continued, breaking off when she saw both Buffy and Willow wince at her last sentence. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"

Buffy waved off Faith's apology. "No harm done. Really." She and Willow had not been best pleased with Xander when they'd found out what had happened of the night of the Sisterhood of Jhe's attempt to open the Hellmouth - the bits they knew of, anyway - and being reminded of it so bluntly had hurt, even if only a little.

"So, anyway," Faith continued, "Xander just kept talking, and wouldn't shut up. I just wanted him to shut up... and I chose the most direct way of doing it, I guess." Faith turned an imploring look at Buffy and Willow - two of the people she'd hurt the most when she decided to work for Wilkins. "I don't know what would have happened if Angel hadn't shown up when he did... I probably would have killed Xander, and all he wanted to do was help me." While she had been speaking, tears had been gathering at the corners of her eyes, and after she completed the sentence, he control broke and she put her hands over her face and began sobbing. Acting completely on maternal instinct, Joyce drew Faith into a hug, rocking her gently backwards and forwards.

Acting completely on hurt-little-child instinct, Faith clutched Joyce in a hug of her own as her shoulders heaved in time with her racking sobs. Buffy and Willow started blinking furiously as they looked on, while Jim took a sip of his now-lukewarm coffee while he thought. It was a good thing, he decided. Faith was finally letting her emotions out into the open, rather than keeping them bottled up. While he thought the notion that letting emotions run free as a form of therapy was ninety percent psychobabble, he was convinced that there was a solid kernel of truth to the notion, and that he was witnessing that kernel in action now. He elected to remain silent, though, since the others were handling the situation at least as well as he was.

Eventually, Faith's sobbing ceased, and she looked around with eyes that were read and puffy from her tears. "I'm so _sorry_; how can I make up for what I did while -"

"Just do your best," Willow cut her off gently. "I guess that's the only way you can really apologise."

Faith could have been offended, but she saw the truth in that and nodded, not really trusting herself to speak.

"Here's a question I gotta ask, even if I don't really want to; why did you poison Angel?" Buffy asked, a little hesitantly.

"I didn't really know what the poison would do to him," Faith replied. "Wilkins assured me that it would get him out of the way for a while, and distract you while you looked for a way to cure him. Honestly, Buffy - _I had no idea_."

Buffy looked a little uncomfortable. "I guess I've got an apology to make, too - for that fight which put you in the hospital in the first place."

Faith looked surprised. "No apology needed - really," she objected. "It wasn't as if I gave you much of a choice in the matter; I wasn't interested in going along quietly."

"Not so much for that, as what I was planning to do if you _had_ gone along quietly," Buffy pointed out. "I was on your case for killing a human, no matter how accidentally, yet I was willing to feed you to Angel to cure him. Kinda hypocritical of me, yeah?"

"Like I said, I brought that situation on myself," Faith said, waving off the apology, before her features crumpled again. "Willow, I'm sorry about holding that knife to your throat that time. I wouldn't have used it, honestly, but I had to look like I would, otherwise..."

"Otherwise the bluff you were running wouldn't have worked," Willow concluded. "I... well, understand probably isn't the right word, but since I can't come up with anything better, it'll have to do."

"Can you forgive me, though?"

Willow looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I guess if Xander can forgive you trying to kill him, then I guess I can forgive you that."

Faith's expression, which had shown the first glimmerings of hope, crumpled again. "I don't think he's gonna-"

"Faith," Joyce cut her off gently. "I'm pretty sure that Xander will forgive you. The boy - young man, rather - doesn't have a malicious bone in his body."

"That's true," Buffy put in. "If he could forgive my... inactions while Angelus was on the loose, I think he can find forgiveness for you."

"Really?" Faith's expression had changed again, back to hopeful.

"I'm pretty sure of it." Buffy shrugged before continuing, "Just to be on the safe side, though, I'll put in a good word for you."

"No nagging, though," Faith said adamantly. "If he forgives me because you nagged him into it, it's kind of pointless. He's got to forgive me because he wants to."

"Nag? Me? Would I do a thing like that?" Buffy asked, her expression an interesting mix of innocence and outrage at such a suggestion, causing everyone else - including Faith, to general amazement - to burst out laughing. "Would I?" she continued, more plaintively.

"Of course not, dear," Joyce replied, smothering her laughter. "But you could - still can - be pretty focused when it came to trying to get your own way." This comment caused more chuckles at Buffy's expense.

"Hmph," she grumped, slouching down in her seat in the approved position for a good sulk.

"Enough serious talk for now," Willow said. "So, Faith, what do you think of Jim?" she asked, timing her innocent-seeming question to perfection - just as Faith was taking a sip of her coffee. On cue, she spluttered, sending thankfully-cold coffee down the front of her shirt and halfway across the table. Joyce smiled and handed her a napkin to clean up the mess.

"Not funny, Red," Faith mock-snarled to a giggling Willow as she mopped up the spill.

"Maybe, but it _is_ a valid question though," Buffy pointed out.

"Uh-oh, this sounds like the start of a conversation not meant for the ears of man," Jim said with a smile as he got up. "Will I see you tomorrow, then?"

"Sure," Faith replied. "I know you're going to say it's your job, but... thanks."

"You're quite welcome, Faith," Jim replied. "Although you're right - it _is_ part of my job - but it still does me good to know that I'm helping people." With that, he made his farewells and left.

"So," Buffy said as she unwrapped one of the blocks of chocolate. "You were about to tell us about Jim..."

****

**_Senior NCO's Mess_**

"How old is Faith?"

The question came as something of a surprise to both Oz and Xander. "I'm not really sure - about our age, I'd guess. Why?" Allan turned a look on him that could be best described as 'old-fashioned'; there were dinosaurs lurking in this one. "Oh. Silly me. Forget I asked."

"I'm curious about something," Oz remarked. "Jim's Australian, right?" When both Allan and Roy nodded, he continued, "What's an Australian doing on a SEAL team?"

"He's on exchange from the Australian SAS," Allan replied. "He's five months into a two-year deployment."

"He's a good soldier - good with his hands - and he has an affinity for explosives that's almost frightening," Roy put in.

"He's got some good stories," Allan continued, "although I'm convinced that about ninety percent of them is pure bullshit." At Xander and Oz's curious expressions, he elaborated, "When you were in Australia, did you spend much time in the bush?"

"About a week," Xander confirmed. "Why?"

"There's no such thing as drop-bears... right?"

****

**_Office of the Special Advisor to the President (Supernatural Affairs)  
OEOB, Washington, DC_**

The intercom on Giles' desk buzzed. "Mister Giles, your next appointment is here - a... Wesley Wyndam-Price."

"Send him in please, Alice."

As Wesley entered his office, Giles contemplated the situation. Despite the fact that Wesley had been a replacement for Giles after the debacle that had been Buffy's Cruciamentum, he felt no personal animosity towards the younger man. _Well, apart from the cowardice he showed at Graduation_, Giles reflected.

"You've certainly moved up in the world, Rupert," Wesley remarked as he took a seat.

"The same obviously can't be said about your situation, Wesley," Giles replied. That was undeniably true. While he could never have been described as 'vain', previously Wesley had gone to some effort to be neat and presentable, but that could not be said of him now. Although there wasn't any one thing that Giles could identify, there was definitely an air of scruffiness about him.

"That's true," Wesley conceded candidly. "When you spend two months living out of suitcases on a tight budget, there is a tendency for any previous peacock traits to disappear," he added with a small self-deprecating smile.

"Quite so," Giles replied. "Forgive my bluntness, but I would like you to clear up something that I've been curious about; namely, your actions and attitude while serving as my replacement as Buffy's Field Watcher."

"No offence taken," Wesley assured him. "Frankly, the reason I was such an insufferable ass was... well, I was inexperienced and completely lacking in the training normally given to a Field Watcher. In fact, prior to my assignment as a Field Watcher, I had been a fairly junior Research type. So, it came as something of a surprise when I was summoned to Travers' office and told that I was going to be the Field Watcher to the active Slayer.

"As you can imagine, my preparation time was minimal to the point of being non-existent, and consisted largely of reading the reports you'd submitted while on the flight from Heathrow to Los Angeles."

"I see," Giles said contemplatively. "To be honest, I can't really say that I am surprised that Travers would act in such a manner, even if his attitude appals me. But after you arrived, I recall that you asked me for advice on how to handle the situation. Advice which, if I recall, you virtually completely ignored."

Wesley flushed. "Is there anything as stupid as a young man with a poor attitude?" he asked rhetorically. "I wanted to assert my authority as Miss Summers' and Miss Williams' Watcher - I can imagine that you were vastly unimpressed with me at that point, as were the young people I was trying to order around. And after that, there was Graduation where I - and let's be honest here - ran like a coward. Is there some way I can apologise to the young people who stepped forward and did something, instead of running away?"

"I imagine something can be arranged," Giles replied. "In the meantime, though, would you care for some tea?" he added, rising to his feet and heading towards the tea service.

"Please," Wesley replied. Thanks to the fact that there was an uninterrupted supply of water at the correct temperature, it wasn't too long before a cup of tea was placed before him. Nodding his thanks to Giles, he took a sip. "This is excellent, Rupert."

"Thank you, Wesley," Giles replied. "Returning to business, though, I imagine the reason you are here is that you received the message that was left in the Council's computer systems."

Wesley nodded. "Even though I made a complete hash of my assignment as a Field Watcher, there must be some way in which I can help. Apart from that, I was thoroughly sick of running and hiding - more from myself than anything else."

Giles took a sip of his tea while he thought. "We would be happy to have you on board, Wesley," he assured the younger man. "I must point out, though, that we will not be requiring your services as a Field Watcher, since that position has been ably filled by Buffy's friends."

"I can't honestly say that that comes as any surprise, Rupert," Wesley admitted. "Miss Summers - Buffy - tended to turn more to them for support than me. Not that I could blame her, really. Even if that weren't the case, I doubt that I would be accepted in any case."

"Would you accept a position in our Research Department, then? From what you've said, it would seem that that would be a position more suited to your abilities."

"Of course," Wesley replied, raising his cup in salute before taking a sip, actions which Giles returned. "May I ask how she is faring?" he continued.

"After a period of emotional turmoil - which is quite understandable, really - she and the others seem to have settled in quite well. In some ways, I almost regret not being able to continue assisting her." At Wesley's quizzical expression, Giles explained, "When the President offered me this position, I could not in good conscience refuse it. At least I was able to console myself that I was able to leave her in good hands - with people who care for her, even love her."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming that you are referring to the group of friends that have been assisting her since her arrival in Sunnydale?" At Giles' nod, he continued, "And I'm also assuming that she has entered into a relationship? Interesting..."

"With Xander, yes," Giles replied. "And that will in no way distract her from her duties as a Slayer. In fact -" He broke off when Wesley started chuckling.

"I seem to recall reading in your early reports back to the Council your expressing doubts about the fact that Buffy's friends were assisting her in her duties," Wesley said with a smile. "It didn't take too long for your tone to change, though."

Giles' expression became somewhat chagrined. "Well, they proved themselves to be of great assistance, both in research and training, as well as the more physical aspects," he pointed out.

"You're quite correct - they were of great assistance. However, I should point out that the reason the Council felt that the Slayer should work alone, with only her Watcher for assistance, is that if the Slayer's enemies find out who her friends and family are, they could conceivably be used as hostages." Wesley paused before continuing, "However, if there is a group of young people capable of looking after themselves, it is Buffy's friends."

"They have proven that a number of times," Giles agreed.

"Might I enquire as to how Faith is faring? Assuming, of course, that she survived the destruction of Sunnydale."

Giles' expression became uncomfortable. "Ah. Well, yes, she did survive the destruction of Sunnydale. In fact, she woke from her coma shortly after Graduation. She's even trying to make amends for her earlier actions by returning to her Slayer duties."

"You're worried that she might not be entirely sincere in her repentance?" Wesley asked.

"No, she seems entirely sincere," Giles replied. "It is more concern _for_ her, than _about_ her." He quickly sketched out the events at Caritas, summarising the report composed and sent by Willow on the subject.

"Your concern is that her emotional well-being is somewhat fragile," Wesley summarised. "Honestly, Rupert, is there anything you can do that isn't already being done?"

"No," Giles admitted reluctantly. "But it goes against the grain not to at least offer assistance."

"Don't take offence, Rupert, but you're not a Field Watcher any more. You left both her and Buffy in the care of Buffy's friends - and Ms. Summers," Wesley pointed out. "You should trust that they can provide the necessary assistance."

Giles nodded, somewhat reluctantly. "I guess it must be a result of my training as a Field Watcher," he replied.

"I know," Wesley said. "And you were a good one, too. But it's out of your hands now."

****

**_Downtown San Deigo_**

The two women were heart-stoppingly beautiful, and they drew more than their fair share of attention as they made their way to the bar of the crowded nightclub. Tall and athletic, they were dressed in clothing that showed off their figures to the best advantage.

They were also vampires, in search of that night's meal.

As they wound their way through the crowd, they spotted two young men at the bar whose offers to buy drinks for a couple of young ladies were shot down. Their body language clearly suggested that they were quite drunk.

Three minutes later, they had wiggled through the crowd at taken up seats next to their chosen victims. A minute after that, they had accepted the offered drinks and were pretending to laugh at the cheesy pick-up lines employed by the young men. An hour later, whispered suggestions had the young men off their seats so fast that they almost left sonic booms in their wake.

At this point, other people might have been suspicious, but since the parts of the young men's brains that weren't marinating in hormones were gently dissolving in alcohol, the tiny warning voices were being ignored. As the vampires were leading the prospective meals past an alley, they each produced a small-calibre handgun from their purses and gestured for the young men to step in. They may have been only .25 calibre popguns, but any weapon can look like a hand cannon to someone staring at it from the wrong end. The bulbous silencers screwed onto the end of the barrels reinforced that impression, and the two young men had seen enough action movies to recognise them for what they were, even through the haze of alcohol and bladder-weakening terror.

_Shit. We're gonna get mugged_, they thought as they complied. It could have been worse, they rationalised - at least they didn't have a lot of money left. Of course, they only realised how fatally wrong they were when the two 'women' revealed their game faces.

One of the young men stood rooted to the spot in horror, much the same way as a rabbit will when confronted by the fixed, unblinking stare of a snake, offering an unresisting meal. The other was different.

Calling on some half-remembered self-defence classes, he leapt forward, intending to bat the gun aside, shoulder-charge the vampire to the ground and make a run for it. After that, he'd do whatever else seemed like a good idea at the time.

Unfortunately, things didn't work out like that. The vampire stepped aside before he'd managed to cover even half the distance between them, and her pistol made less noise than a hand-clap as she sent a bullet into his kneecap. The young man howled as he tumbled to the ground, but he managed to keep crawling for a few more metres before his strength gave out.

Ordinarily, a vampire would have seriously hesitated about shooting a prospective meal like that, for the waste, if nothing else. That was why she had shot him in the kneecap; it produced a crippling wound - not that she'd ever been in serious danger, but why take chances? - and it didn't bleed too much in the time it would take to complete her feeding.

"I'm mildly impressed," she told the young man as she advanced on him. His eyes were slightly dulled over from a combination of pain and alcohol, but he had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen next. The sight of his friend being drained by the other vampires could only be considered a heavy hint, and his mind was shying away from the sounds that were being made. "You tried to fight your way clear, instead of meekly accepting what was going to happen to you next. A brave, if futile, attempt."

His expression showed a brief glimmer of hope - hope which the vampire crushed with her next sentence. "Oh, I'm not going to spare you. After all the effort we went to, that would be rather silly, wouldn't it?" she continued as she grabbed the front of his shirt and effortlessly hauled him upright. "I'm still going to feed - well, actually, I'm not _only_ going to feed..."

With that, she bit down on his carotid artery and began feeding, a process which was completed quickly. Still holding him upright, the vampire used a nail to open a cut on her wrist, which she held above the young man's mouth, now hanging slackly open. A few drops of blood dripped from the cut and landed in his mouth. He swallowed once, then convulsed before hanging even more limply - if such a thing was possible - from her grasp.

"Well, that was interesting," a voice from the shadows said, and the two vampires turned to see two male vampires leaping down from the lowest landing of a nearby fire escape ladder. Both were carrying M-4 carbines that had been... acquired from somewhere, and their purpose was obvious - they were the cover party, just like the two female vampires were the feeding party.

With the involvement of the military in vampire hunting, the brighter vampires had realised that their old hunting and feeding patterns were suicidal. If they kept to those, they might as well dust themselves and save the military the trouble and themselves a lot of pain. Apart from anything else, the risk of running into an undercover hunting team was just too great. So some of the brighter vampires had organised themselves into teams, where half of the team would find suitable victims, while the other half covered them.

The 'feeders' in a team would be armed with pistols, while the cover party would be armed with long-arms such as carbines or rifles. If they did run into trouble, the rifle-armed vampires would lay down some covering fire while the feeding party would either counter-attack or attempt to break contact. Even if they'd been too badly injured to make an escape, it was assumed that the soldiers would put a higher priority on eliminating active threats over staking crippled targets. It was a far from perfect plan, but it was certainly an improvement on the old way of doing things. Their enemies had started using modern weapons and tactics, and to survive, the vampires had to respond in kind.

Of course, the more traditionally-minded of their number complained vociferously. Shooting humans was a waste of food, they pointed out, to which the response was that, unless an artery was hit, the wastage would be minimal. And if a human soldier was shot dead, other meals could be found. It was also pointed out, somewhat sarcastically, that if one was reduced to dust blowing in the breeze, finding future meals would be problematic, to say the least. At that, the traditionalists had subsided with poor grace, muttering about how things were done 'in our day'.

"He showed some modicum of courage," the female vampire replied as the two carbine-armed vampires approached. "And besides, with things going the way they are, it seemed necessary. It's not as if we're going to overgraze the supply in any great hurry."

The two male vampires nodded to acknowledge the point. "In that case, we'll get this guy to a safe house before going back out," one of them said. "I believe it's our turn to find a meal this time," he added as weapons were exchanged.

****

**_Slayerette House_**

Allan knocked on the door, and after a short wait, it was opened to reveal a somewhat dishevelled and obviously just-out-of-bed Joyce. "Sorry to wake you, Joyce, but I'm here to collect the kids for the excitement that is PT," he said apologetically.

"No need to apologise, Allan," Joyce replied with a tired smile, inviting him in. "Coffee?"

"Not right now, thanks," Allan replied. "Doing PT on a full stomach is a bad, bad idea - the results aren't pretty. Maybe when we get back."

Joyce nodded as she led him upstairs towards the bedrooms. The first door they reached was for Buffy and Xander's room, and Allan knocked briskly. "Wakey, wakey!" he called out cheerfully.

The only response was a muffled, "'k off."

"Tsk, tsk," Allan said mock-regretfully. "Such language, and at this hour of the morning, too." He grinned suddenly as he removed something from the pouch strapped around his waist. "You might want to cover your ears," he added to Joyce as he opened the bedroom door...

... and pressed the button on the hand-held air horn.

**_BLAAAAAT!_**

_WHUMP WHUMP_

The two pillows thudded into Allan's chest - obviously, they were the first throwable things that came to hand for both Buffy and Xander. Allan's eyes widened somewhat as Buffy, obviously acting on instinct rather than a conscious decision, charged, with Xander not too far behind, causing him to hurriedly step aside.

With no visible target in front of her, Buffy slowed down as her conscious mind began to start working. "Wha?" she asked muzzily, then she saw that both Allan and her mother were laughing heartily at her expense. "That's not funny!"

"Huh?" Xander mumbled as he stepped up beside her, still moving on auto-pilot.

"Look at those two snickering away like that," Buffy pointed out in annoyance.

"Oh." At Buffy's hurt look, Xander clarified, "I'm getting annoyed too, Buff - just much slower. After all, us mere mortals take longer to get started in the morning."

Before Buffy could say anything else, Faith's annoyed voice cut in. "All right, what the hell's going on here?"

That was too much for Joyce and Allan, and they had to lean against the wall in order to stay on their feet.

****

"Oh God, let me die now," Willow groaned as she leant against a convenient wall, since her legs weren't quite up to the task of keeping her upright. "At least then the pain would go away."

Allan and Roy, who'd joined them for their first experience of morning PT, exchanged looks. True to their word, they'd gotten the Physical Training Instructor - PTI - to go somewhat easy on them, resulting in a regimen that was a little easier than the one carried out every day by the regular military, and one that barely counted as warm-up for a Special Forces soldier. In fact, Allan and Roy were about to join the rest of their team to carry out their own morning PT.

What the Scoobies had been through was ten minutes or warm-up exercises, followed by a brief aerobic workout, then a two-mile run at a fairly easy pace.

Buffy and Faith had breezed through the entire experience, barely even breaking a sweat. In fact, they'd probably handled it better than Allan and Roy. Oz had a faint sheen of sweat of his face, and he seemed to be breathing more deeply than usual, but apart from that, he seemed to have also handled the experience fairly well as he helped support Willow with an arm around her waist. Xander stood bent over with his hands on his knees as he sucked in deep breaths, but at least he was standing under his own power, and looked to be recovering reasonably well.

The two SEALs shrugged - in time, their fitness would improve - and nodding to the PTI, trotted off to start their own PT. Shaking his head, the PT turned to the Scoobies. "Before you stagger off to breakfast, there's one more thing you need to do; warm-down exercises. If you don't, you'll probably cramp up and feel even worse than you do now."

"I don't think that's possible," Willow gasped as she levered herself off the wall with Oz's help and made her way unsteadily to rejoin the others.

****

After the warm-down exercises were complete, the Scoobies walked back home - slowly - to shower, change and have breakfast before starting their actual day proper. As Xander was drinking a cup of coffee while waiting for Buffy to finish up her shower, the phone rang. Since he was the closest, it fell on him to answer it.

"Hello? Oh, hi Lorne... No, nothing too drastic, just my first experience of military PT... No, it's not too much fun. So, what's up? 'New toys', huh? Yeah, that _does_ sound interesting. I gotta ask, though - why'd you wait until now to call? Yeah, I probably wouldn't have appreciated being woken up at two in the morning, but stil... Ah, right. Yeah, getting caught passing on information to us probably would be bad... Thanks for the tip; I'll pass it on as soon as possible... I appreciate it, really... Bye."

"What was that about?" Buffy asked, towelling her hair dry.

"It seems that Lorne overheard something interesting last night - a couple of vampires bragging about the 'new toys' they were getting, and how that'd let them stand up to the 'Pale Riders' - his words, not mine."

"What do you suppose that means?" Buffy asked, curious.

"I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd say that the vampires were arming themselves," Xander replied thoughtfully as he drained the mug. "I'm sure the intelligence guys would be interested in hearing that," he added as he rose from his seat, moving to hug Buffy.

"Eew, sweaty, smelly Xander-hugs!" Buffy protested with a smile, accepting the hug and giving him a quick kiss despite her complaint. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course I do," Xander replied. "And I love you, too."

"Good to hear," Buffy said with a grin. "Now, go and clean yourself up - you smell!" she added with a small laugh.

"I hear and obey, O Mistress."

****

**_J-2 (Intelligence) Department, Operation STOKER_**

The J-2 officer, an Army lieutenant-colonel, listened thoughtfully as Xander recounted the telephone call that he'd received from Lorne. When he'd finished, the J-2 nodded. "That would explain a report we received from the San Deigo police last night." At their quizzical expressions, he explained, "Apparently they found a body in an alley near a popular nightclub, which had been almost totally drained of blood and had two puncture wounds on the neck. It didn't exactly require CSI to figure out what that meant." The Scoobies nodded at that - vampire attack without a doubt.

"The interesting thing is, they also found a few small blood spatters... along with a single point-two-five calibre cartridge casing. If the vampires are starting to arm themselves, and we've now got two reports to indicate that they are, the teams will need to be more careful. That includes you, when you're declared fit for active duty again. I know, I know," the J-2 continued, "you've got a lot of experience at this sort of thing. But if the vampires are going to change how they operate, then we have to, as well."

"I wasn't about to complain, honestly," Buffy replied.

The J-2 shrugged. "I just though it'd be better to get the explanation in first."

"I've got a question which you might be able to answer," Xander put in. "When Lorne called, he mentioned something called 'Pale Riders'. I assume he was referring to the Teams, but what does it mean?"

"Oh, that's fairly easy to answer," the J-2 replied. "One of the benefits of being brought up in a fairly devout Christian household, I guess." When the others looked at him with politely blank expressions, he quoted, "'I saw a pale horse, upon which was a pale rider, whose name was Death.'"

"You mean we're being compared to _Death_?" Willow squeaked. "The Grim Reaper?"

Oz's reaction was an understated, "Cool."

"Well, not you personally," the J-2 replied with a small shrug. "But yeah."

"Does that mean we can get unit patches made up?" Xander asked with a grin. "If so, I'm voting for a head and shoulders shot of the Grim Reaper over crossed scythes."

"Not my department, thank God," the J-2 replied with a chuckle. "But I'm pretty sure that if you put it to the Teams, they'd probably be in favour."

Buffy shook her head. "Don't encourage him, Colonel," she said with a smile. "An eager Xander starts off cute, but it gets old pretty soon. Just like a coffeed-up Willow."

On cue, both Xander and Willow responded with, "Hey!"

****

**_San Deigo_**

"Is it just me, or does this seem just a little paranoid?" Buffy asked, adjusting one of the stakes in the specially designed purse she was carrying. Designed for female Secret Service agents, there was room for two smallish - but large enough to be effective - stakes, a silenced Beretta and two spare magazines, along with a couple of vials of holy water... and more ordinary things like make-up, keys and money. She would have preferred to have the stakes, at least, more convenient to hand, but with the dress she was wearing, that really wasn't an option.

"Probably," Xander agreed. "But I like to think of it as being cautious. After all, there _are_ things out to get us." He was slightly better off in the weapons-concealing standings than Buffy, as the jacket he was wearing allowed him to conceal his own silenced pistol in the small of his back - with the spare magazines and holy water vials in an inside pocket - and his two stakes were strapped to his forearms. So long as he remembered not to remove said jacket, anyway.

"So, how'd you manage to talk them into letting us have the night off?" Buffy asked as she and Xander entered the restaurant.

"Why, my natural wit and charm, of course," Xander replied as the _maitre d'_ approached. At Buffy's sceptical look, he added, "Of course, the fact that I promised to be back before we turned into pumpkins probably helped." That was good for a giggle from Buffy.

"May I be of assistance?" the _maitre'd_ asked.

"Reservation for two, under the name Harris," Xander replied.

The _maitre'd_ checked the reservations list. "Ah, yes. If you'll follow me, I will take you to your table."

"Thanks," Buffy replied as she and Xander followed the _maitre d'_. As they took their seats, she said to Xander, "I must admit, I'm impressed."

"Eh," Xander replied with a shrug. "No big deal," he added as menus were produced and they were left to contemplate their choices. Before the _maitre d'_ could vanish, though, Xander held a brief whispered conversation with him. The _maitre d'_ nodded, and then disappeared.

"What was that about?" Buffy asked.

"You'll see," Xander replied. Shortly afterwards, a waiter appeared, carrying a tray on which was a bottle and two glasses. The waiter set the glasses before them before uncorking the bottle with a skill that spoke of much experience, and presented the cork to Xander, who looked blankly back at her.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked. "Keep it as a souvenir?"

"Well," the waiter replied. "Traditionally, you're supposed to sniff it, but I'd say that at _least_ two-thirds of the people who actually do that don't know what they're doing, so there's no need to worry about it."

"Ah, the arcane rituals of the wine snob," Buffy said brightly. At the waiter's inquisitive expression, she explained, "My mother owns an art gallery, and she's hosted more than a few fancy get-togethers at which stuff like that happens."

"Connoisseurs, please," the waiter said with mock hurt, "not 'wine snobs'."

"Like I said, wine snobs," Buffy replied with a grin.

The waiter shuddered exaggeratedly before pouring a small splash into one of the glasses and presenting it to Xander. "And now what am I supposed to do?" Xander asked.

"Taste it, to see if it's satisfactory," Buffy told him.

"Hey, with what I know about wine, you could be serving anything short of vinegar and I wouldn't know the difference," Xander pointed out. "I just asked for a good wine." After a moment's though, he shrugged and took a sip. "Hey, this is good stuff," he said.

"I take it that the wine meets your approval?" the waiter asked dryly before filling the two glasses and leaving them the rest of the bottle.

"Such well-mannered staff," Buffy said with a smile. "Remind me to leave a tip."

Xander smiled in response and raised his glass in order to make some sort of toast. It remained unspoken, though, since at that precise moment half-a-dozen masked gunmen burst into the restaurant, brandishing automatic weapons. "Everyone, up against the wall!" one of them shouted. "Do as we say, and no-one will get hurt!"

"Great," Xander muttered at he and Buffy obeyed the directions, playing along to see what would happen. "I finally get to take you to a fancy restaurant, and guess what happens?"

"Xander..." Buffy whispered, her face a mask of concentration.

Xander, however, was on a roll. "It could be worse, I guess. At least it's not -"

"Xander!" Buffy hissed, the tone of urgency in her voice breaking through Xander's rant at the unfairness of a universe that seemed out to get him personally.

"Vampires?" he completed. "It _is_ vampires, isn't it?" At Buffy's nod, he continued. "Bloody hell, Gary was right - he's _never_ going to let me live this one down."

"I'll accept that if it means that you live through this," Buffy replied, falling silent as two of the gun-toting vampires walked past. "So, how do we handle this?" she asked, once they were safely out of earshot.

"Same as usual," Xander replied.

"Violence?" Buffy asked. "Well, it _is_ what we're good at. I was just hoping for a break in the routine," she added as she brought her purse into a position where she could grab the pistol.

"And old folk say that today's youth have no values," Xander said mournfully as he leaned over to give Buffy a quick kiss, just in case... both of them shied away from that thought. "Ready?"

****

The leader of the armed vampires nodded to himself as he surveyed the scene. Things were going well up until this point - although they had to remain alert, in case someone wanted to play hero. He'd taken precautions against that, though, he reflected as he watched two of his minions patrol along the line of patrons against one of the walls, just out of reach in case someone got any stupid ideas and another finished herding the kitchen staff into the main area of the restaurant. The 'botched robbery' plan they were using as a cover was a good one, he acknowledged, even if the idea hadn't been his in the first place. Anything that would misdirect the police and make them hesitate before calling for the Pale Riders was probably a good idea.

There was something subtly wrong with the couple the minions had just passed, though. While everyone else was terrified and in fear for their lives, those two seemed more... _annoyed_ than anything else. The sense of wrongness, though, seemed to be more firmly centred on the woman than the man.

_Shit! She's the Slayer - Summers!_ he realised, recognising her from the fragmentary warnings that had been circulating the vampire community for a couple of years now, and that had escalated ever since the Sunnydale Graduation Massacre.

He was about to call out a warning when Summers and her companion produced pistols - she from her purse, and the man from behind his back - and shot the two closest vampires neatly in the centre of the back.

_Thwack! Thwack!_

The pistols were silenced, he realised, a fact that was fairly obvious, given how the sound of the bullets hitting the vampires' undead flesh was actually louder than the sound of the pistols firing. They must have been using some sort of special ammunition, too - while getting shot _hurt_, it tended to annoy more than to cause crippling wound. Unless the shooter was lucky enough to score a hit in the kneecap or the head.

_Blessed ammunition?_ the vampire wondered, watching his minions clawing at their backs in a futile effort to remove the source of the pain that had them screaming and writhing in agony on the floor.

They didn't suffer for too long, though, as the Slayer produced a stake from her seemingly-bottomless purse. Two thrusts later, there were two piles of dust on the floor, and Summers was charging another pair of his minions, who were trying to get their carbines into a position where they could fire and stand some sort of chance of hitting her, while her companion hung back to provide covering fire for her.

****

Buffy finished off the two vampires they had shot and, ignoring her pistol, charged the next closest pair, who were fumbling with their weapons. They'd just levelled them and were about to pull the triggers, when...

_Thwack! Thwack!_

... their heads snapped back as holes appeared in their foreheads, and they crumpled to the floor, weapons falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. _Xander shot them past me_, she realised. _I know he's a good shot, so I wasn't worried that he'd shoot_ me _by accident - really! - but I wish he'd warned me first_.

There wasn't much rancour in the thought, since she hadn't warned _him_ that she was going to charge. _I guess that balances out, then_, she thought as she staked the two vampires before turning to the last pair.

With fractionally more warning than the others, they'd managed to raise their weapons to a firing position - one pointed at her, the other at Xander. She had barely enough time to twist violently out of the way before the vampire aiming at her pulled the trigger. A scream of pain from behind her announced that, while she'd saved herself, someone else hadn't been as lucky.

_I'm sorry_, she thought. _But if I'd been shot, I couldn't have helped anyone else_. Just then, the other armed vampire staggered back, dropping her weapon to claw at her chest. Xander had taken care of the vampire aiming at him, she realised as she staked the vampire that had shot at her, before finishing off the other vampire.

"Buffy!" Xander shouted from behind her. She turned around to see Xander running up to her, and - part of her was amused to see that he put her pistol on safe first - wrapped his arms around her in a huge hug. "Are you all right? I'm sorry that I had to shoot the other vampire first, but -"

Buffy cut off the almost Willow-like babble by placing a finger over his mouth. "It's okay, Xander. Really," she told him.

"Well, apart from the person who got shot, anyway," he replied, somewhat gloomily.

"Apart from that," she acknowledged, somewhat glum herself. "And why didn't you warn me that you were going to shoot past me?" she demanded.

Fortunately, he took it well. "Probably for the same reason _you_ didn't warn _me_ that you were going to charge off like that," he responded and, despite the seriousness of the situation, she had to fight down a small grin. After luxuriating in the hug for a brief moment longer, they reluctantly broke the embrace and made their way to where the civilian who got shot lay on the floor. They were relieved to see that she'd only been wounded in the shoulder, which - although painful and messy - was hardly life-threatening.

A small group of people had gathered around and were using napkins and torn-up tablecloths as rough dressings and bandages to stem the flow of blood. The wounded woman looked up, and seeing the expression on Buffy's face, cut off whatever Buffy had been planning on saying with, "Don't apologise. After all, it's not as if you shot me yourself."

Buffy nodded to acknowledge the point. "Still, I kinda feel guilty -"

"Don't," the woman interrupted. "These things happen. If it wasn't for you and your friend - boyfriend," she corrected herself, "things would have probably been a lot worse."

"You seem to be taking this awfully well," Xander remarked.

The woman grinned - although it appeared to be more of a grimace - and started reaching around with her good arm for her purse. The man who was doing most of the bandaging of her wound reached over and placed it gently on her chest before returning to what he was doing. She nodded gratefully and removed from it what looked like a credit card holder. After some fumbling, she flipped it open to reveal a shield-shaped badge, on which were the letters SDPD and a number.

Seeing the suddenly understanding expressions on Buffy and Xander's faces, the woman grinned/grimaced again. "Yep, I'm a cop. Me and my husband - who's also a cop, by the way," she said, nodding towards the man doing the bandaging, "decided to have a nice, romantic dinner. Which meant leaving our service pieces at home."

"We've never needed them before," the man protested as he tied off the last knot.

"Until now, anyway," the woman retorted.

"She's going to nag me about this for _years_," the man told Buffy and Xander gloomily. "Or until something happens that I can rib her about, whichever comes first."

"Hah! You're going to have to wait for years. When have I done anything like this?"

"Well, there _was_ the time you -"

"Details, details," the woman said airily - well, as airily as possible for someone who'd been wounded. Turning to Buffy, she continued, "Those were vampires, right?" When Buffy nodded, she continued. "Then I'd say that makes your boyfriend, at least, a soldier. I'm not sure about you, though."

"You never did watch much news on TV," the man said with a small chuckle. "Because if you did, you'd recognise the young lady as Buffy Summers, and her boyfriend as Xander Harris."

"Hey, we're famous!" Xander said with a chuckle.

"Well, someone who gets both the Medal of Honour _and_ the Victoria Cross at the same time is considered newsworthy for some reason, along with the reason they got the medals in the first place."

Before either Xander or Buffy could reply, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air. "It looks like our friends are arriving," the woman remarked.

"Oh great," the man grumped. "You ragging me about this was going to be bad enough, but all of our colleagues, too?" He shook his head sadly. "My life will now officially suck."

Just then, half-a-dozen heavily SWAT officers burst through the door. Seeing two armed people at a scene where shot had been reported as fired, they reacted according to their training. "DROP THE WEAPONS!" they shouted at Buffy and Xander.

"I think we'd better do what the nice people who have heavier weapons than we do say, Buffy," Xander said as he dropped his pistol and without being prompted, kicked it away from him. Beside him, Buffy did the same.

"ON YOUR KNEES! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEADS!"

"Isn't that going a bit far on a first date?" Xander muttered, unable to help himself. Buffy giggled, equally unable to help herself.

"Stand down, guys," the wounded off-duty SDPD officer said, sitting up with her husband's assistance. "These are good guys."   
"Lieutenant?" the lead SWAT officer asked in some confusion. "What are you doing here? Are you all right?"   
"Why am I here? That's a question for a philosopher," she replied. "But in the more immediate sense, you'd have to ask Mister Romance here. As for the other question; I've been _shot_ - how do you _think_ I am?" 

"Sorry about that, ell-tee," the SWAT officer said, abashed. "I'll get an ambulance on the way. But you said that they're good guys?" he added, indicating Buffy and Xander.

"That's right. See those dust piles? They're what's left of six vampires."

The SWAT officer look at the indicated dust piles, and his expression became deeply impressed. "These two took out six vampires all by themselves?"

"That's right, but there's no need to be surprised. After all, they have done this sort of thing before."

"Well, not _exactly_ like this," Xander muttered, embarrassed by the attention. The SWAT officer turned to him and gave him and Buffy a closer examination than he had previously.

"Say, aren't you Buffy Summers and Xander Harris?"

Even as they nodded, Xander resigned himself to a blown date and a long night.

****

**_Mirimar NAS_**

Xander had been right about it being a long night - it was nearly eleven o'clock when he and Buffy finally managed to return to Mirimar, after making statements to the police and a brief report to the local Operation Stoker commander, with the promise that they'd make a more complete report on their return to the base.

There were promises of commendations and official thanks from the SDPD Commissioner, but they'd waved those off - or tried to, at least. The officer debriefing them was polite but insistent, and had been very interested in the fact that the reports of vampires arming themselves had been confirmed. Xander somehow refrained from pointing out the irony in the fact that they'd been the ones who'd provided those reports in the first place.

Once that was over, but before they'd gone to bed, Xander had an idea, and headed towards the communications centre. "Can I get a message to Lieutenant Gary Wilson? He's a SAS officer commanding a team in Los Angeles."

"Sure, no problem," the communication technician replied. "They should be getting ready to go out on patrol right about now," he added, checking his watch. "What message do you want to send?"

****

**_National Guard Armoury, Los Angeles_**

When the decision to deploy Special Forces units into American cities to hunt vampires had been made, the National Guard armouries had been chosen as locations to base the patrol units at. The only modifications required had been to beef up the security - which the SF units provided themselves - and to upgrade the communications facilities.

Lieutenant Wilson was carrying out the final pre-patrol inspection when one of the National Guard soldiers who operated the communication equipment approached him, but didn't salute, since Gary was in civilian clothing. "Message for you, sir."

"I wonder what this is about," he mused to himself as he accepted the message and dismissed the soldier. After reading it, his expression became confused for a second before he burst into laughter.

"Sir?" the patrol second-in-command asked quietly. Still laughing, Gary handed him the message form. The sergeant read the message before breaking into laughter himself. Like his commander, he'd been present at Caritas a couple of nights before.

The message form fluttered to the ground as the sergeant was laughing too hard to hang on to it. It read:

_'TO: LT Gary Wilson, OIC Team 12  
'FROM: Xander Harris_

'Yeah, yeah - you were right, smart-ass.'


End file.
